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corruptedcaps · 7 months

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Jane’s Ascension

Special thanks to @lsat (discord: thedivergence, Twitter: LSAT1886) for generating the images used here that allowed a long time idea of mine to come to life.

It had nearly been a year since Tarzan and Jane had defeated their nemesis, the cruel and power-hungry Queen La. She was a formidable adversary, known for her dark magic and ruthless ambition. Queen La had ruled over a faction of jungle-dwelling followers, seeking dominion over all living creatures. However, her reign of terror had come to an end when Tarzan, Jane and their friends thwarted her wicked plans, banishing her from their realm.

It was only now that they had decided to explore the ruins of La’s once thriving city of Opar. Jane had always been enamored by the mysteries of the jungle. Her days alongside Tarzan, swinging through the treetops and learning the ways of the wild, had filled her heart with love for both the man she adored and the lush, untamed world around her. She begged Tarzan to bring her back to Opar, to explore its secrets now that the once threat was long gone. Tarzan had been hesitant but he couldn’t say no to his love.

“Tarzan this place is amazing isn’t it? Just think of how bustling and vibrant this place once was. It makes me sad that it all ended when La was defeated.” Jane said with a hint of melancholy. Tarzan did not understand her fascination with a place he could sense held great darkness but looking at her he knew that he would do anything for her.

Unbeknownst to both of them, Jane’s words travelled on the air around the ruined city causing the stone walls to creak and the wind to howl. It was as if her words breathed life into the city and it responded by opening a hidden door to a chamber below. Jane and Tarzan looked at each other confused. Tarzan knew Jane would want to investigate but he felt uneasy. Before he could voice his concerns she was already descending into the hidden chamber.

As they descended they saw in awe the full scoot of the chamber. It aas steeped in a chilling aura of both grandeur and malevolence. The walls were adorned with faded murals that depicted the cruel reign of Queen La, showcasing scenes of conquest, subjugation, and dark rituals.

The chamber's ceiling, supported by ornate stone pillars, bore intricate carvings of jungle creatures and twisted vines, as if nature itself had been subjugated by a twisted will. Shafts of eerie, filtered light penetrated the chamber through narrow cracks, casting eerie shadows upon the cold stone floor.

At the center of the chamber, on an obsidian pedestal, rested a necklace. It glimmered with an unholy radiance, its central red gem catching the scarce light and reflecting it in unsettling patterns. Its beauty was mesmerizing. So much so that Jane, who didn’t want for anything in the world, felt immediately compelled to reach out and touch it.

As her fingers barely brushed against the surface of the gem, an otherworldly sensation coursed through her veins. Her eyes widened in surprise and then immediately vacant. She stood like a statue with her index finger barely touching the necklace the entire time.

However Tarzan was quick to notice his paramour was eerily silent and when he saw her transfixed state he jumped into action pulling her away from the necklace. Jane crumbled in his arms unresponsive, seemingly comatose.

“Jane! Jane! Wake up Jane!,” he said urgently. “Hold on, Jane. I won’t let anything happen to you.” Desperation etched his face as he made a painful decision to leave Jane. He knew there were wise shamans living on the far side of the jungle, keepers of ancient knowledge and medicines that might hold the cure for Jane's mysterious ailment. Without delay, he set out on his perilous journey through the dense, untamed wilderness.

Meanwhile, in the solitude of the chamber, in the depths of her coma, Jane found herself walking amongst the buildings and the people of Opar. However this wasn’t the Opar she knew, all empty and ruined. This was a vibrant, alive grand empire. She followed the flow of people to the central hub, the palace. At the center of this opulent building, was a lone woman, beautiful, powerful, strong. It was Queen La like Jane had never seen her. Jane’s hate for all the valuess that La held faded away as she gazed in awe at the magnificent queen astride her throne.

Up until now no one paid Jane any attention, it was if she were a spectre, floating around unseen but one person now saw her. With a smirk and a gesture to come closer, Jane found herself gravitating towards La. Only once she got closer did she notice that the cocoa skinned Queen was positioned in such a way to show off her glistening bare pussy. The sight stopped Jane in her tracks.

“Come closer Jane, pay tribute to your Queen. Taste royalty so you too may ascend.” La said in a purr. Jane was transfixed, almost hypnotized by La’s words as she knelt in front of La and leaned into the monarch’s most prominent care of regions.

Jane’s tongue gingerly touched the top of La’s clit. As soon as it did it was a revelation for the reserved English scholar. The taste was unlike anything she had known before. It was pleasure personified and Jane wanted more.

Placing her hands on La’s smooth thighs, Jane pulled the Queen closer to her face so she could exploring her depths deeper. La let out a soft moan that Jane took to mean she was equally enjoying the experience.

However as both Jane and La were experiencing pleasure like no other, a voice was breaking through to her. It was Tarzan’s. His voice was acting as her conscious, compelling her to wake up, to reject La’s empty promises. His voice sliced through the trance she was experiencing and she pulled herself away from La.

“Wait this isn’t right, this isn’t who I am.” Jane said unsteadily getting to her feet and wiping away the juices from her lips. However with lightning speed La rose and stood behind her, whispering in her ear.

“And who are you exactly Jane? A sidekick to that muscle bound moron? A damsel in distress always waiting on your prince to save you? Aren’t you tired of that?” La purred in her ear as she place her hands on Jane’s hips.

“Wouldn’t you rather be something more capable? More powerful? More feared? Wouldn’t you like that?” La said as she pulled Jane closer to her, their bodies touching from neck to thigh.

Maybe it was fear that kept Jane from moving but maybe it was La’s tempting words that kept her there. Maybe it was La’s soft breath on her nape that caused Jane to forget about Tarzan in that moment. Maybe it was the promise of beauty and power that made Jane whisper, “More than anything!”

Jane closed her eyes as she felt La’s warm embrace around her sink into her skin. She felt La’s very essence be absorbed into her body in a pleasurable slurping sound. She felt her drab and simple clothing become La’s gloriously revealing regal attire. Gold hooped earrings drip from her ears pairing well with think gold bracelets adorning her arms.

Her skin gradually taking on a deeper, exotic tan, reminiscent of the sun-kissed hues of the jungle. But the changes were far more profound than a mere alteration in complexion and clothing. Her body seemed to ripple with newfound vitality, her curves becoming voluptuous and alluring. Her nails grew long and sharp, like obsidian talons, ready to strike.

Jane's once-ordinary hair thickened and lengthened, cascading down her back in a torrent of glossy, ebony waves. Her breasts swelled with a newfound plumpness, going from a meagre B cup to a commanding double D. Her figure transformed into an embodiment of seduction and power.

Muscles that had once been delicate and feminine now hardened, sculpting her into an athletic and toned form, blending grace and strength in a way that was both sexy and fearsome.

Carnal images and sensations filled her mind, like a vast library of pleasures were getting downloading into her brain. Knowledge of magic spells, hexes and curses invaded her brain and gave her intimate expertise as if she had been a student of the dark arts for decades. It was intoxicating.

Opening her eyes she found herself now awake from her coma, standing back in the chamber alone. The necklace that had started all of this was clung tight to her chest. Her eyes, now shimmering with a malevolent light, reflected the eerie radiance of the cursed gem. In that moment, her transformation was complete, and a dark presence had taken root within her.

She gazed at her reflection in an ancient, cracked mirror within the chamber, and her voice, now dripping with seductive cruelty, echoed in the silence. "Ah, much better," she purred, her own voice sounding both familiar and yet profoundly altered, "I was once so naïve, so kind-hearted. But look at me now."

With a haughty laugh, she envisioned herself ruling over Opar, Queen La's dark legacy reborn in her. "I shall be the new queen of this empire, and the jungle will tremble at the mention of my name. No one can resist the allure of power, especially when it's draped in such beauty."

Her fingers, adorned with long, razor-sharp nails, traced the contours of her transformed body, admiring her newfound allure and power. "The jungle will bow before me," she continued, her voice filled with icy determination. "And Tarzan... oh, Tarzan, he will come to realize the joy of serving me."

Almost as if he had been summoned, Tarzan appeared at the foot of the chamber having descended with a shaman mixture that he believed would reawaken Jane but found it suddenly unneeded.

There, before him, stood Jane, but she was unrecognizable. Her once-kind eyes now glinted with a sinister light, and her body had transformed into a vision of seductive power. She wore the cursed necklace with an air of cruel confidence.

"Jane?" Tarzan's voice quivered with disbelief and desperation as he stepped closer.

She turned to face him, and a wicked smile danced upon her lips. "Oh, Tarzan," she purred, her voice dripping with both familiarity and malevolence, "you've returned."

In that moment, Tarzan realized the depth of the darkness that had taken hold of his beloved Jane. "What has happened to you?" he pleaded, his heart heavy with sorrow.

Her laughter was chilling, a stark contrast to the laughter he once knew. "I've embraced the power that this necklace has given me, Tarzan," she declared. "I am the new queen of Opar, doesn’t royalty suit me perfectly?"

Tarzan's eyes pleaded with Jane, desperate to reach the woman he loved, hidden beneath the darkness that had consumed her. "Jane, please," he implored, his voice filled with anguish, "you must destroy that necklace. It's corrupting you."

But Jane merely chuckled, the sound cold and heartless. "Tarzan, you underestimate me," she said, her voice dripping with scorn. With a swift, mocking gesture, she tore the cursed necklace from her neck.

Tarzan's heart leaped with hope, but it was short-lived. In the palm of her hand, she squeezed the necklace causing it to crumbled to dust, as if it had never existed. Jane's eyes blazed with a newfound malevolence.

"I don't need the necklace to be queen, you fool," she sneered, her gaze locked on Tarzan. "The power is within me now. I am the queen of Opar, and no one can challenge my reign."

A sense of dread washed over Tarzan as he realized the extent of the transformation that had taken place. Jane had become a force of darkness, and there seemed to be no way to reach the woman he had once known.

"In fact, as a show of my power," Jane hissed, her voice filled with a chilling determination. With a casual flick of her wrist, the very vines that had once been their allies came alive. They slithered and twisted through the air, responding to her dark command.

Tarzan's eyes widened with alarm as the sinewy vines snaked around him, their grip growing tighter with each passing moment. His powerful struggles were rendered futile as they constricted, holding him immobile, like a helpless prey ensnared in the jungle's unforgiving embrace.

Jane's eyes bore into his, devoid of the warmth and love he had once known. Instead, they gleamed with an eerie satisfaction, reveling in her newfound dominance.

"Tarzan," she taunted, her voice dripping with cruel delight, "you see, there is no escaping my rule. The jungle is mine to command now, and you are but a mere obstacle."

"But you may be useful to me yet," Jane mused with a sinister smile, her lips curving in a mocking grin. Leaning in, she pressed her lips to Tarzan's with a chilling, calculated tenderness.

As their lips met, a malevolent energy surged from Jane's mouth into Tarzan's, and a darkness seemed to creep through his veins. Agonizing pain wracked his body, and he convulsed as a profound transformation began.

Tarzan's muscles bulged and expanded, his body becoming more impenetrable, like the very stones of the jungle. His once-tanned skin turned an eerie shade of gray, and his eyes, once filled with warmth and life, darkened into abyssal pools of black.

Through the torment, Tarzan's voice turned cold with an eerie subservience as he asked, "What is your bidding, my Queen?"

Jane's malevolent laughter echoed through the chamber as she gazed upon the creature that Tarzan had become, a loyal servant of her dark reign. The jungle had truly fallen under her dominion, and she held the once-mighty Tarzan in her thrall, a grim testament to the extent of her power.

“Come my pet, there is much to do.” She said with a knowing smirk as she released Tarzan from his binds and he followed her obediently.

For another tale of Jane’s corruption check out this fantastic story here by @misseviehyde

#f2f #corruption #bitchification #magic #evil bitch #magic jewelry #corrupted jewellery #evil couple #fanfic #ai image #merged #corrupted couple

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cypresskey · 1 year

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I wrote this in response to someone in a malevolent fan discord pointed out Canary in a Coal Mine by The Crane Wives being a Jarthur song, which I completely agree, but the song is a whole analysis on its own.

theres that extra jab of Kayne using the phrase in 28, and thou it was due to them literally being in a coal mine and the color yellow, it got me thinking about jarthur in terms of actual coal mine canaries.

So miners used canaries as a warning sign to toxic gases, having much smaller and sensitive lungs then humans. So when the birds succumbed to the gases, becoming ill or dying, the miners knew to escape before they faced the same.

Arthur is John’s ‘a piece of driftwood to hold onto, otherwise he’ll drown, nothing to him’ other then a vessel for him to no longer be trapped and get what he wants. Arthur is the canary John brings into the mine knowing arthur will suffer but not carrying because it benefits him.

Except miner’s started to see these birds as pets, they felt bad, but they still needed them. So they invented special cages that when they noticed the canaries reaction to a toxic gas, they could close a door that would prevent the outside air from getting in the cage and pump clean air in. This wasn’t done for economic reasons, just out of empathy. John grew to view Arthur as more then a tool, rather a friend. Someone he is still bound to, someone he still needs to use, but someone he cares for and someone he will save.

Not to mention, further connections with the symbolism of canaries and Arthur. First of all, they are song birds and were prized for their voices. They were seen to teach how to experience the sweetness of life and how to use ones own voice. They were the light at the end of the tunnel, John learning humanity from Arthur. New beginnings, getting out of your comfort zone. Loyalty, courage, protection of yourself and those you love, optimism. But they weren’t a purely positive sign. A caged canary spoke of limitations or even entrapment, particularly of an emotional nature, a sign of vulnerability and of of an unfaithful friend that has damaged trust and jeopardised your safety. “If a strong negative force kills the Canary in your dream, this is a sure sign that somebody has done something wrong – whether that’s you or another, it symbolises guilt, shame, regret or anger at your own actions, or inaction especially if you have not been able to protect something important to you” further more, surrounding the phrase ‘canary in a coal mine’ is them being an warning of impending doom to those around them. Some say them as a omen of a family death. And this is more john/the kiy but “if the Canary is singing into your ear, this is said to represent the flattery of others who may be wanting something out of you”

Though they, specifically yellow canaries are also a sign of good luck, which the boys definitely dont have

#malevolent #malevolent podcast #arthur lester #john doe malevolent #john malevolent #arthur malevolent #kayne malevolent #the king in yellow #malevolent songs #jarthur #jathur songs #media analysis #character analysis #malevolent analysis #animal symbolism #canary in a coal mine #malevolent 28

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thedemonofcat · 9 months

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Lettenhove, a quaint and unassuming town, remained untouched by the influences of neighboring kingdoms. Nestled discreetly on the map, it often eluded the attention of those seeking its location. The townspeople embraced this obscurity, particularly shunning outsiders, including witchers, who were frequently denied entry. Paradoxically, admitting a witcher might have offered Lettenhove a chance to break free from its ominous curse.

For years, Lettenhove had languished under the grip of a malevolent enchantment known as the Whispering Plague. This affliction entailed the insidious spread of contagious whispers, fostering paranoia and sowing discord among the townsfolk. The more these murmurs were heeded, the more they insinuated an all-consuming obsession and erratic behavior.

The sole remedy for the curse demanded a ritual that culminated in a grievous sacrifice. The Ritual of Nothing mandated the removal of the young children's sense of hearing. Upon the night of the crimson moon, the ritual commenced—first, the severing of tongues, then the puncturing of eardrums, followed by the application of corrosive substances that would blind their eyes. Ultimately, their hands and feet would be bound before they were cast into a stygian abyss. This macabre rite was believed to appease the Whispering Plague for half a century.

Julian Pankratz, a young Viscount, found himself designated as the next sacrificial candidate when he was a mere ten years old. However, Julian harboured ambitions beyond becoming a sacrifice; his dreams encompassed travel and music, experiences that necessitated possessing all his senses.

In a bid to escape this grim fate, Julian fled Lettenhove on the eve of the Ritual of Nothing. Taking on the moniker "Jaskier," he enrolled at the Oxenfurt Academy and embarked on a journey as a wandering bard.

As Jaskier's paths converged with Geralt's, the renowned witcher, the bard maintained a resolute silence about his past. Geralt occasionally pondered the reticence shrouding Jaskier's history.

Soon after Geralt and Jaskier reunited subsequent to their parting on the mountain—where emotions had flared—Jaskier, Yennefer, and Ciri joined forces in their travels. A disturbing pattern emerged: Jaskier started noticing the gaze of individuals hailing from Lettenhove.

Unbeknownst to Jaskier, Lettenhove had remained ensnared in the Whispering Plague's grasp due to the incomplete performance of the Ritual of Nothing. In their desperation for relief, the afflicted town dispatched residents who hadn't succumbed entirely to the curse. Their mission was clear—to retrieve Jaskier and enforce his return to Lettenhove to execute the ritual and break the curse's malevolence.

Upon learning the grim details of the Whispering Plague and the burden Jaskier carried, Geralt solemnly vowed to shield his friend from the town's sinister machinations.

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shadow0haven · 5 months

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Malevolent Mischief is open for invites!

Finally able to announce the server called Malevolent Mischief! It's a creative based server that is centered around discussing anything from the show in detail to writing and art works with other creatives interested in the series, branching from the Malevolent Big Bang! We also provide image IDs to be accessible to the best of our abilities to the visually impaired. There's sprint channels for writers, spaces to discuss WIPs for art and writing, as well as NSFW/Dead Dove sections for those who enjoy the darker side of Malevolent (they are also easily ignored)!

That said, due to the nature of the show, the server is 18+ only! Before being invited to the server, please let us know that you are at least 18 to receive an invite.

Below are the rules that the server runs by. If you agree with the rules, please feel free to DM @shadow0haven (myself) or @bluejayblueskies for an invite!

Here are the general rules for the Malevolent Mischief server!

1. ***No bigotry.*** Racism, sexism, homophobia, transphobia, aphobia, antisemitism, identity policing, and so on will not be tolerated.

2. ***Respect your peers.*** Be kind and courteous! Respect others' boundaries, interpretations, ideas, and preferences. This server is 18+ and all members are expected to interact and respect each other on an adult level and take responsibility for their actions and behavior.

3. ***Keep conversations in appropriate channels.*** Certain channels are used for certain things: beta search should be used for beta search purposes, off-topic-media for other shows/fandoms etc, and so on. NSFW and Dead Dove content needs to stay in channels labeled NSFW and Dead Dove to respect boundaries. Please check channel descriptions for help on what's appropriate and where!

4. ***Outside drama is not welcome.*** This includes drama from other fandoms/discords, chatting about fans outside this server, etc. Discourse topics should be left out of this server and kept to personal DMs.

5. ***No parasocial nonsense.*** Talking about the creator in the context of the show and its creation is welcome, but please avoid personal discussion revolving around the creator (example: sexuality, morality, personal relationships, etc).

6. ***Use image descriptions.*** To help make the server accessible to all *Malevolent* creatives, we ask that you use Image Identification when posting or linking images (unless the link contains an ID.) This does not have to be elaborate! We also have volunteers who like to help create IDs if asked!

7. ***Spoilers.*** For the first 48 hours after an episode's public release, we ask people to use spoiler bars. We also ask people to keep patreon content within the patreon channels to be respectful.

8. ***Content warnings.*** Please use spoiler bars and a content warning when discussing topics commonly found triggering (including but not limited to self-harm, suicide, rape, and real-world discrimination.) If you're unsure, err on the side of caution. Please also provide relevant content warnings when sharing fics or art.

9. ***Comments, concerns, suggestions.*** We have a channel for any questions or suggestions for the server - please don't hesitate to use it if you need it!

10. ***This server is 18+.*** Due to the nature of the show, as well as the content of the server, this server is 18+ only for the comfort and well being of members. Server invites will not be given to those found under 18.

(Malevolent Mischief is only associated with Malevolent Big Bang in regards to related servers!)

#malevolent #malevolent podcast #malevolent server #malevolent mischief #masked #server #malevolent discord server #Note; I apologize for people having to ask for an invite I know it can be stressful #Note 2: but we want to be sure about minors not hopping in and its nothing personal and just a small safety precaution to keep everyone safe

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thescrapwitch · 1 day

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20 Questions for Fic Writers

Thank you @grey-gazania and @dreamingthroughthenoise for tagging me! Sorry for the very late reply!

1. How many works do you have on Ao3?

Currently, I have 63 works, though a few of them are on-going multichapter ones. If I narrowed it down to only complete fics, it would be 58.

2. What’s your total Ao3 word count?

501,530 words!

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Currently the Silmarillion has me in a chokehold and I am having SO MUCH FUN putting tragic elves into all sorts of situations. There’s a lot of free space and flexibility in its canon which is fun to play around in, and so many AU possibilities. Before that I wrote for Linked Universe/Legend of Zelda, which had a large cast of characters whose found family/friendship dynamics had me hooked.

(we shall not speak of what I wrote during my Fanficion.net days, back when I was very small and very terrible at writing 😛)

4. What are your top five fics by kudos?

Looking at all my fics, my Linked Universe ones have the most: Rescue Mission, Malevolence, Bad Joke, Untitled Goose Fic, and Weatherworn Heart.

5. Do you respond to comments?

I try to! I adore comments and go back and reread them often, so I try to at least say thank you to people who’ve left one after reading my fics.

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

This is a tough one! I have a few Hurt/No Comfort ones (all focusing on poor Maedhros). I’ll go with Despair Like Poison, in which I find a way to make the beginning of the Silmarillion EVEN WORSE. Its based on a Tumblr post I made (which I now can't find????), and I might continue it, once I figure out exactly how dark/angsty I want it to get!

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Probably Rest for the Weary and the Damned, the final fic in the main storyline for my Maglor is an Eldritch Horror series. After many problems, everyone gets to be together and live happily ever after, including everyone’s favorite eldritch monster.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

No, but I don’t tend to write a lot of romance/ship-focused fics, so that could be why.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

No, not my thing to write.

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

Crossovers aren’t really my thing to write either.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

I have! It's always such an honor when someone asks if they can translate my fic.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

No, though I do get a lot of inspiration from comments and side-discussions. Untitled Goose Fic happened because of a Discord discussion, and Trial of Crablor Feanorion was written because of a commentor’s remark about animal trials.

14. What’s your all time favorite ship?

Silvergifting can be so much fun and so messed up and I love writing it.

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

My poor Legend of Zelda 1920s AU fic is crying at me from the depths of my WIP pile. I am so sorry. One day, maybe, I will return to it, but I have so many other things that I want to write…

16. What are your writing strengths?

Dialogue, story structure, and weird stuff. Eldritch monsters, sentient houses that speak to you in nightmares, crabs who were once elves, dreamy-not-entirely-sane narration; those I feel like I can do well.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Description! Specifically, description used to set up a place, to make the world around the characters feel more textured and real. I am trying to get better at it.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

I have enough typos writing in English, I do not have the confidence to try and write in anything else. The Tolkien fandom has a lot of languages and I’m always in awe of the people who can include them so well into their work.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Megaman.EXE, way way back in the early days of Fanfiction.net, all of which has now been thankfully eaten by the internet.

20. Favorite fic you’ve written?

I say it every time someone asks, but it has to be The Haunting of Imladris. That fic was a gift: it gave me a world to flesh out for my eldritch!Maglor series, it gave me confidence to write horror (which I’d never done before) and it gave me Lindir. I will always adore and be grateful to it.

Tagging: @camille-lachenille @thelordofgifs @searchingforserendipity25 @sallysavestheday @lordgrimwing @eilinelsghost @chthonion @gardensofthemoon and anyone else who wants to join in!

#thank you again for the tag #my writing #silmarillion #linkeduniverse

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strings0fcontrol · 8 months

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Hannigram – Post-Fall (15)

Setting aside the string of heart-pounding incidents and near-death experiences, Will felt remarkably intact as he awoke from the abyss, discovering himself on a solitary bed.

The absence of the creature sent shivers down his spine, leaving an unsettling void in the room. He knew it would return, that was inevitable. It bore the demeanor of a creature unwilling to abandon a task half-done. However, in its place, the cat lay beside him, nestled peacefully, casting a drowsy, watchful gaze upon him. As Will started to sit up, the cat stretched luxuriously, and its eyes casually grazed over his freshly bandaged hand.

In an instant, Graham's gaze shot upwards, the memory of the mirror shattering returning in a rush. He had swung at the monstrous apparition but struck a solid wall concealed beneath the fractured mirror, garnering a collection of glass shards in the process. The pain was barely a bother. Hannibal. Will could have sworn he still felt the lingering touch of his lips against his own. He cast his gaze about, desperately scouring his surroundings for any trace of Dr. Lecter, but all that met his searching eyes was an all-encompassing darkness. Ensnared within the confines of that bizarre fortress, his initial entry had been eerily uncomplicated. Yet, the elusive path to exit eluded him entirely. His sense of orientation was lost, and time itself seemed to dance to a discordant tune, with the familiar cadence of night and day utterly erased. Clocks were conspicuously absent, leaving him adrift in a temporal void. The passage of time remained an enigma, an unsolvable puzzle with no measure or reference.

Alright.

Following the rules of his analytical autistic mind, when denial ceased to be an option, acceptance became the inevitable path.

Will felt an inexplicable surge of motivation, propelling him forward into the next looming confrontation. Normally inclined toward avoidance by nature, he now found himself driven by an uncharacteristic curiosity, an urge to uncover the mysteries that enshrouded this eerie ordeal. Heaving himself off the bed, he took a few deliberate strides forward.

This surreal environment, as genuine as it seemed, could no longer be the tangible reality he once knew before that fateful plunge off the cliff with Hannibal. While it possessed an unsettling realness, and the looming threat of genuine mortality hung in the air, it was not his reality. He had to be trapped deep within his own consciousness. If the island and the house represented the surface level of his psyche, and he needed to dive into the depths to reach the core, then what precisely was this enigmatic liminal space?

His eyes darted, surveying his perplexing surroundings.

His own subconscious?

He had stepped into the fortress of his mind.

And the looming question remained: What, precisely, was the nature of the malevolent entity? Evidently, it was a facet of himself, a twisted reflection. Despite the undeniable similarities, he had never laid eyes on it before. It possessed a cat-like grace and an unsettling reservoir of power. The sudden shift in the environment had spared him. Had it not been ensnared behind the shattered mirror, he had no doubt that even the slightest contact with its icy skin would have been akin to a corrosive liquid nitrogen, devouring its way through him.

The lingering apprehension remained—it had to be nearby. Yet, despite his meticulous scanning, no trace of its presence was revealed. His lips parted, and he attempted speech.

"H—," he began, but as sound emerged, his voice faltered into an uncertain silence. "Hello?" Will questioned slowly, almost reluctantly. His voice felt raspy and fractured, but it was a voice nonetheless.

What should he call it? Monster seemed a bit too harsh.

He pondered on possible names. Cat person? Big-Ears? Golden-Eyes? Walking Frostbite?

His brows furrowed.

It bore a semblance to a sphinx cat, bereft of fur, if he were to draw a comparison.

Egyptian.

As if a connection clicked, his lips moved instinctively.

"Miu."

The word flowed from his tongue, the ancient Egyptian term for a cat: 'he or she who mews.' While he pondered, a nagging uncertainty lingered: Was it truly wise to christen a monstrous entity with a 'meow' in a tongue foreign to his own?

A duo of golden eyes, like gleaming coins amidst the darkness, materialized at knee level, their eerie ascent unceasing until they hovered nearly half a meter above Will. Graham's throat constricted instantaneously, gripped by an instinctual terror.

Realization washed over him—it had been here all along. His knees trembled, and his entire body longed to sprint for safety, a visceral reaction triggered by the sheer sight of this monstrous entity. Every follicle on the nape of his neck seemed determined to emancipate itself from his skin, yearning for refuge in the safety of escape. A voice, faint but insistent, urged him to flee, while his limbs burned with an incandescent urge to sprint, adrenaline coursing through his veins like a wildfire. The painful awareness of his body, priming itself for either confrontation or flight, was palpable.

Yet, an opposing force, as if his very soul was attempting to pull him in the opposite direction, ensnared his will, a relentless tug-of-war that demanded a formidable struggle to resist. The entity pressed forward, its very presence resonating through the trembling floor beneath Will's feet. Every footfall transmitted its ominous weight, sending ripples through the ground beneath, akin to miniature earthquakes. Shadows gave way, enveloping its obsidian form as the light around it intensified. Though it had not assumed an overtly hostile stance, an undercurrent of menace lingered in the air. No longer did it teleport or engage in the eerie act of unfolding and collapsing; its presence had solidified within the frame. Paradoxically, this newfound tangibility only heightened its terror, as if the solidity of its existence made it all the more malevolent. Its aura bore down upon him with an oppressive weight, as though it were greedily siphoning the very air from the room, leaving each breath he drew in feeble and strained. As Will's gaze honed in on additional details, he discerned the big chain veiling an amulet, presumably the coveted Horus Eye, while more chains adorned its wrists. Each feline countenance exuded a regal air, but this particular specimen radiated a divine aura.

Exercising caution, Will slowly lifted his hands and retreated with deliberate, measured steps. A conscious effort to avoid triggering its predatory instincts. As the weight of his foot bore down, a disconcerting sensation engulfed him, as though he trod upon ground that dissolved beneath his very weight. An overwhelming dread coursed through him, a cry to succumb to unconsciousness and escape the paralyzing fear that gripped his every fiber. Yet now, he possessed an unexpected weapon, a formidable tool to wield against an open intelligence, perhaps the mightiest weapon within his entire arsenal: his voice. Words. Communication. "I want to talk, Miu. Can we do that?" His voice remained hushed, a tremor of anxiety akin to that of a timid child, yet it clung to him, steadfast in its bravery, refusing to desert him.

The entity came to a sudden stop, its radiant, gilded orbs narrowing ever so imperceptibly. That ultimate step, though devoid of sound, reverberated within him like a thunderous declaration. A subtle cant of its head communicated to Will that he possessed but a fleeting moment to sway its disposition. His eyelids trembled, his very soul waging a battle to remain anchored within his body. A fleeting surge of relief coursed through him, nearly toppling his senses. It understood him. This meant he had a slender opportunity for negotiation. An astonishingly unconventional gambit, yet one brimming with intrigue. Engaging in a precarious negotiation with a deadly monster, the words he would choose next would seal his fate. Much like when an officer confronted a potential bomber, the sole strategy lay in persuading them to abandon the path of detonation. In those critical moments, the first ten words held the power to shape the outcome. Empathy, the bridge to understanding, was the chosen path — a means to connect with one's adversary, to resonate with their suffering. Empathy forged a bond, and that bond wielded influence. Empathy wielded as a conscious tool could be a potent weapon in the realm of offense. And now, the moment had arrived to employ it, to allow that connection to unfurl and reach its full potential, to wrench the pendulum that had been swinging passively and transform it into a spear for a decisive strike. In the face of this formidable predator, he grappled with the uncertainty of how to forge a connection. Yet, as he locked eyes with it, penetrating the veneer of calculated lethality, he began to discern something. Beyond the calculating gaze of a predator, there lay an unexpected depth, a raw intensity akin to the fiery determination of an aggrieved housewife. It was the gaze of a woman who had known pain and channeled that anguish into an unrelenting fury. It was a gaze he had once seen in his mother's eyes—a complex mixture of emotions, a veritable cocktail of disappointment, sadness, and frustration, all intertwined with an undercurrent of helplessness. These feelings were veiled by a seething, simmering fury, much like an untreated wound left to fester, burn, and ooze with pus. When a woman reached the point of losing her composure, it usually meant she had endured numerous hurts, with all that external observers witnessed being her unbridled wrath. Wrath, in its essence, served as our protective armor, a final line of defense. Frequently, heeded too late, it came to our rescue when the weight of accumulating pressures finally threatened to consume us.

Men, in their anger, often exhibited a different hue. But this, this was the singular fury of a woman, ablaze with its full, unyielding intensity—an inferno born of maternal instinct. This fury transcended banality, its complexity woven from the threads of deeply personal grievances, its edges sharp with spite. The wrath of an enraged woman, he knew all too well, ranked among the most chilling spectacles to witness, which explained the primal sense of terror that gripped him. In the depths of one's inner child, few terrors surpassed the dread of an angered mother – a fear deeply personal and uniquely unsettling. Utterly terrifying to behold, undeniably lethal in its potential, yet strangely beautiful in its own right, for it was a fury born from the deepest wellspring of love. Whether that love is directed toward the child or oneself.

Isn't it ironic that the most perilous fury often finds its genesis in love?

He recognized that expression, and in that moment of insight, he grasped the slender thread that might just save his life.

"I'm sorry for hurting you," Will spoke, his words flowing instinctively. Even to himself, what he said came as a surprise, but just there, it all clicked into place. Miu, it seemed, had quietly taken residence within his soul for a considerable span, embodying the shadowed recesses he had struggled to repress and purge from his being.

It was attentive. He had effectively secured another ten words to wield. "I see you now. And … I want to fix it," Will persisted, advancing with a wary tread toward Miu. The entity held its ground, neither retreating nor progressing, its unblinking eyes locked onto Graham. Its searing gaze, akin to relentless yet probing suns, tracked his every move. "I want to understand you," Will added, his trembling hands extending towards the feline's neck. The darkness crept at the corners of his vision, as if his own mind stood ready to sever the lifeline, recognizing the perilousness of his impending, potentially fatal blunder. The collar was positioned too high to reach without its cooperation. Though the towering entity seemed to pause briefly, it elegantly bent its lofty form into a sinuous arc, placing the fractured chain within Will's grasp. All the while, its unwavering and intense gaze remained fixed upon him. In this close proximity, he couldn't help but notice the enormity of its eyes, akin to peering into newly formed pools of molten magma. He could almost swear he sensed a subtle heat radiating from their depths. There was no mistaking its readiness to strike with lethal precision at the merest hint of a misstep from Will.

Graham found himself at a loss on how to remove the chain. He lacked the key, and it proved far too robust to break with his bare hands. While Miu had managed to break free from the chain earlier, the collar was doubly thick, and it was clear that it had frozen onto the feline's neck. Frozen. Intriguingly, the creature's frigid aura had retreated. It remained cold and emitted a chill, yet it was no longer an aggressive, painful force when Will approached it.

The collar, where it melded with the creature's skin, emitted an eerie glacial glow as if it were more than just a physical restraint; it seemed to radiate the same icy aura that surrounded it. Perhaps, Will pondered, it served to curtail the creature's abilities, despite the fact that it had managed to break free from the chain. Frozen. Much like its movements, constrained to only a few frames before it had to resort to teleportation. Will couldn't shake the thought that perhaps the pervasive chill was affecting it as well, restricting its mobility. It left him pondering what other limitations it might face. If the cold was truly gnawing at the creature's very being, Will could only imagine the excruciating pain it must have endured. And yet, it maintained such composure. No wonder it was filled with anger.

"I want to … set you free, but I don't know how," Graham's voice lowered, his realization of his inability to open the collar weighing upon him. The golden eyes loudly shifted toward the smaller cat perched on the bed, which was gazing at them with an air of curiosity. Then, they clearly descended upon the key dangling from its neck. Will followed Miu's gaze, and in response, it turned in the opposite direction. Lights began to flicker to life, revealing the path through the darkness, guiding him toward the solution. Under the unyielding gaze now fixed upon him, Will nodded slowly. "I believe I'm starting to understand?" he said, his voice steady as he attempted to regain control over his trembling body and ease the tension in his jaw. "Please, have patience with me. I'm–I’m incredibly confused, but I'm making an effort."

The intensity of the gaze remained fixed on him as Will shifted his focus toward the smaller cat. It appeared to grasp the situation and made a swift decision, darting away along the newly illuminated path. "No, no, no, wait, I won't harm you. I just want the—" Will called after it, but it vanished from sight. "...key," he added with a resigned sigh.

"Nothing is ever … easy, is it?" Graham posed the question to Miu. Though the creature's expression remained unchanged, he couldn't shake the feeling that the energy around it had shifted into what felt like a reproachful eye roll. "I'll find a way," Will reassured, hands raised defensively, his confidence stronger than he had initially intended. He reluctantly tore his gaze away and began to follow the illuminated path, with Miu closely trailing behind him. It was only at that moment that he truly grasped the creature's immense size. Even in its hunched posture, it loomed large enough to cast a shadow over him, despite moving on all fours, reminiscent of a gorilla. It appeared to be crouching, or maybe it was adjusting its steps to match his own as if it had the capacity to cover ground much more swiftly. In this deliberate act, it was evident that it was consciously restraining its movements, granting Will the space to walk at a more comfortable pace. Its hind legs, remarkably elongated, bore a semblance of a humanoid trait rather than a feline one. In contrast, its arms exceeded the proportions of typical human anatomy, further accentuating its uncanny physiology. Miu exhibited remarkable intelligence, undoubtedly comprehending every word Will spoke. However, it appeared either mute or disinclined to speak. Nevertheless, its body language, those expressive eyes, and the subtle shifts in muscle tension, posture, and demeanor conveyed a silent eloquence that made it feel as though Will could read its thoughts. It didn't rely on words to communicate; every signal it emitted was calculated and purposeful. It was a form of communication that utterly fascinated him, reminiscent of Hannibal, but magnified to an even greater degree. "I can only speculate that you represent my darker impulses," Will looked up, his gaze locking onto the piercing stare above him. "No offense. I'm just trying to understand," he said gently, his voice carrying a hint of trepidation. His gaze lingered on Miu, searching for the right word to describe the inexplicable, "You're strangely," he hesitated, "... mesmerizing." Graham almost regretted uttering that comment, but he couldn't help himself. He studied the creature's reaction, a subtle retraction in its expression—perhaps a flicker of surprise or a hint of confusion in its inscrutable eyes.

"It's probably odd to compliment the part of myself that wants to … murder everything," he continued, a touch of self-deprecation in his tone, "but... yeah, you are strangely beautiful, and I have no idea why I'm saying that. It just came to mind, … along with everything else that's … happening here. I don't have explanations for any of it," he gestured vaguely to the surreal surroundings, shrugging helplessly. "Or, really, anything that's unfolding in this place. But you're the first thing that feels... safe."

Once more, he fell silent, his gaze locking onto the creature's inquisitive, nearly smug countenance. "I know it's utterly insane to say this to something that was moments away from ending my life, but maybe that's why it feels so... familiar , even natural to me." Another pause. "I'm... I'm sorry if I'm rambling. You seem like a good listener," he admitted, his voice trailing off with a nervous chuckle. Realizing the audacity of his words, he quickly stifled the humor. "Sorry, I... I'm just really nervous. Talking helps me … process." Miu seemed to find amusement in Will's efforts to salvage the situation, and for a fleeting moment, Graham glimpsed a reflection of his own nature in that reaction. "You...," he hesitated, gauging the wisdom of his next words, "possess sadistic inclinations. You derive pleasure from witnessing the suffering of others." He carefully observed the creature above, noting how its gaze seemed to sharpen, cutting into him with an inquisitive hostility rather than an immediate threat. "But it's a specific brand of sadism, isn't it? You're curious, and you only revel in the torment of those who, in your eyes, deserve it. Am I correct?" He posed the question directly to Miu and received a subtle tilting of its head in response. Not outright denying, yet not fully acknowledging either. In essence, it amounted to a 'maybe.'

"I can relate," Will continued, his words measured. "I assume that's why you take on the form of a cat, not a dog. You enjoy toying with your prey." He noticed a flicker of offense in Miu's eyes and hastened to clarify, "I'm–I’m not suggesting dogs are better than cats or vice versa. They're simply … different. Cats are solitary hunters, more methodical and strategic." As he spoke, he found himself contemplating his own penchant for murder, recognizing that it aligned more with the feline disposition than the canine. "True, dogs usually kill for survival, for sustenance, out of necessity. But cats... they kill for sport, for the sheer thrill of the hunt."

At its core, he embodied the essence of a cat, not a dog, when it came to his mannerisms. They walked for quite a distance, and apart from the illuminated path on the floor, Will couldn't discern anything in their surroundings. It was a vast expanse of emptiness. Oddly enough, Miu's presence had a calming effect on him, which was quite perplexing given that it should have instilled fear. This paradoxical reaction only fueled his curiosity. Now that the creature had ceased its attacks, or at least postponed their confrontation, the aura of calm it exuded was otherworldly. It was a self-assuredness, a precision in its rhythmic strides, that could cause even a deity to question their standing in its presence. It felt like a primordial principle, a force as mighty as time itself, something that even surpassed the deities. Will couldn't precisely define what Miu was, but it embodied a concept older than the gods themselves. It exuded an aura of utter primality, akin to a living law of nature. Gazing upon it was a humbling experience, and it became even more humbling to realize that it was not only aware of his presence but also actively listening and cooperating. Undoubtedly, it did so by choice, driven by its own self-interest. Will couldn't forget that it still possessed the power to liquefy him with a mere flick of its finger. Referring to it as a god would likely be an understatement, even an insult. It wielded an authority far beyond the capacity of words to fully capture. "I wonder how long you've been here," Will mused, abruptly halting his stride and turning to cast a questioning glance at Miu. The wisdom of countless years, perhaps even millennia, shimmered in its vibrant eyes. It undeniably bore the weight of great antiquity.

The presence of the Horus Eye, which he had glimpsed earlier, lingered in his thoughts. Could it be a clue? The Egyptian undertones puzzled him. While he found mythology of all kinds intriguing, he had never delved deeply into Egyptian lore. His interests were diverse, but Egyptian mythology had never been a particular focus. That's what made Miu's connection to it all the more fascinating, reminiscent of the Wendigo form Hannibal's shadow had taken in his psyche.

It undeniably held a connection to the Gods, particularly that Horus Eye, a symbol with multifaceted meanings. Some conjectured its mathematical significance, linking it to the sacred unit fractions that ancient Egyptians associated with the six components of the eye: The complete Eye of Horus represented the number one. The top part of the eye, which is shaped like an eyebrow, represented one-sixth (1/6). The darkened central part of the eye, resembling a pupil, represented one-sixty-fourth (1/64). The curving section below the pupil, often shaped like an ‘S,’ represented one-fourth (1/4). The teardrop-shaped section beneath the S-shaped swirl represented one-eighth (1/8). The straight line or inverted ‘T’ shape at the bottom of the eye represented one-sixteenth (1/16). The tail-like extension at the very bottom of the eye represented one-thirty-second (1/32). These fractions, all with powers of two in their denominators, served to represent portions of the hekat, the standard measure of grain capacity. A binary framework, founded on base two. These values function as exponents for the conversion of binary to decimal. Considering that 2^6 equals 64, it requires 6 bits for the representation of the fraction 1/64 in binary notation. Consequently, a total of 65 bits is needed to represent 2^64 in binary.

Numbers could be quite intriguing at times.

Furthermore, the Eye symbolized the reinstatement of order and the victory of good over evil. In certain interpretations, it is regarded as an emblem of spiritual insight and enlightenment, signifying the eye that gazes beyond the material realm and into the domain of the divine. A suggestion of introspection, perhaps? The inner eye, observing itself?

"Miu, I—," Will inhaled deeply, gathering the courage to confront the creature fully. His eyes sparkled with newfound determination, a change that seemed to please the large feline. "I need your help to … unravel all of this. I'll find your key. But I also need you to be my key to understanding." He could have sworn it was smiling, even though its visage remained devoid of expression. Yet, the eyes emitted a distinct energy, undeniably smug. Pride filled those golden orbs, but there was also a hint of contentment. Within that fierce and deadly countenance, there lingered a subtle softness, sending a ripple of energy through Will's stomach. Rising to its full height, Will estimated it was roughly three meters tall. In that moment, its appearance seemed more human than feline, with no visible tail. As it diverted its gaze from Will, its heavy ears pricked forward, adding another half meter to its imposing stature. It surveyed its surroundings with an intensity that made Graham suspect it perceived more than he ever could. Its eyes held an expression of recognition, as if it were identifying something specific and definable, rather than merely staring into an abyss of emptiness.

He felt inconceivably minuscule next to this towering juggernaut of lethality. It was meticulously crafted for annihilation, every aspect of its being a weapon honed to perfection. And yet, despite its alien, mythological essence, it exuded an uncanny humanity, a strange relatability that was both unsettling and oddly comforting. Amidst its icy frigidity, he found warmth and understanding. Although it seemed as sharp as the edge of a surgeon's scalpel, he couldn't shake the feeling that it possessed a hint of empathy. It was shrouded in darkness, brimming with deadly potential, but it was not inherently evil. In a moment of strange impulse, Will felt compelled to reach out and touch it while it remained engrossed in its surroundings. His hand barely reached its thigh, but as his warm palm made contact with the firm, icy muscle, he sensed the cold rapidly eating his skin. Miu recoiled from the touch like a coiled spring suddenly released. It was the first time he truly heard its reaction—a noise that didn't quite qualify as a hiss or a growl, akin to a potent, piercing surge of air vibrations that gripped him in near-paralyzing terror. It seemed as if the sound had the potential to be lethal, had it been honed with greater purpose. He could see the creases on its visage and the momentary parting of lips that revealed an array of razor-sharp teeth glistening in the harsh light. There was no audible hiss, yet he could sense it coursing through his entire body. Will's breath came in rapid, uncontrollable gasps as his trembling hand remained outstretched, his eyes wide with a mix of astonishment and trepidation. It had demonstrated the capacity to produce sound, and it felt as frigid as if it had been frozen solid. In a brief moment, he sensed its anguish, a fleeting sensation that had almost overwhelmed Graham when it had brushed against his senses. Tears welled up in his eyes, and he fought to maintain his composure, refusing to succumb to the torrent of information assaulting his mind. "You're in agony, immense agony," he stammered, struggling to regain his breath and see through the tears that clouded his vision. "Such excruciating pain. How do you even cope?" Miu's response was one of seething anger, its usually serene countenance now twisted into a mask of pure fury. Its upper lip quivered as it pulled back, baring its menacing row of teeth like an unspoken warning. While it refrained from launching an attack, there was no ambiguity in its message: should Will misstep, he'd be torn apart and reduced to mere confetti without a moment's hesitation.

Graham raised his hands and avoided making eye contact, his breath still quivering. "I– I did this to you, didn’t I? It was me, who put that chain on you, right?" Miu's patience was wearing thin, and its body language signaled an impending, impulsive attack. Its clawed palm extended, poised to strike, and it began to move toward Will. Despite the imminent danger, Will held his ground, refusing to flinch or close his eyes, even as he sensed the strike in his peripheral vision. "I'm... so sorry," he whispered, his voice trembling as he allowed his tears to flow freely. It was this moment of understanding and vulnerability that seemed to save him, halting the sharp claws just before they could slice through him. Will's eyes closed, and he could sense the presence of Miu's palm lingering nearby. "I … I thought I was doing what was right," Will spoke, his entire body quaking uncontrollably. His eyes slowly opened, revealing a torrent of tears. "But now, I'm not sure anymore. I don't know what's right anymore. I can't trust anything I thought I knew. I... I need your help. I need your guidance. I need your wisdom. And, I know... I don't deserve it. I don't deserve your kindness, your understanding, or your tolerance." He paused, still trembling but now lifting his gaze to meet Miu's golden stare, his eyes bloodshot and raw. "Because I didn't give that to you. I hated you. I wanted you gone. I denied your existence. I tried to suppress you, to kill you, to erase you. I starved you. I abused you. I froze you. I gave you nothing but ice and abandonment." His throat tightened, threatening to crush his voice, but his lips parted again, and he refused to succumb to silence under the pressure of his emotions. "You needed me, and I wasn't there to listen to your voice. And still, you gave me a chance." He blinked rapidly, trying to free himself from the tears to see clearly. "And I... I plunged us off a cliff to escape you." Will swallowed hard, his eyelids fluttering under the weight of a profound realization, his gaze slowly descending.

"Your beauty, … it frightened me. … I came to understand how complete I felt when I let you come to the forefront. And I – I panicked."

His eyes traced every nuance etched into the frozen countenance before him, yearning to decipher some elusive meaning.

"I need you, Miu. You are an integral part of me, just as I am an integral part of you. I … humbly see–seek your forgiveness," Will stammered, his words stumbling in their earnestness. His body quivered uncontrollably, a force he struggled to restrain as if the icy chill within had frozen his insides, threatening to convulse him into an involuntary fit. He trembled with fear, while Miu quivered with unbridled wrath. Bowing his head, Graham exposed his vulnerable neck to the creature, anticipating its sharp strike like a guillotine's blade. If death was to be his fate, it would be a fate of his own choosing.

Yet, when he sensed the creature's icy touch on his skin, he couldn't help but flinch. The palm was unexpectedly gentle, causing his composure to crumble like sand yielding to water. Overwhelmed with emotion, he wept bitterly, instinctively reaching out to grasp the creature's large torso as it descended, wrapping around him like a protective cocoon. "I remember you. You... you were always my protector. Whenever they … bullied me, yelled at me, or hurt me, you were there. Your anger was a shield against a world that treated me unfairly. You were furious because I was hurt, and I pushed you away, buried you, froze you, all because other people—people who found it inconvenient if I showed anger—told me not to overreact. But we weren't overreacting. Being hurt, being abused, anger is a perfectly natural response. It's the part of us that wants to … protect us. You were there to protect me," whispering softly, Will clutched Miu tightly as if by squeezing it, he could somehow quell his own trembling. "You took in all my pain, held onto my anger, and you never let go. You didn't forget; you didn't bury what was done to me. You wanted to make the world answer for it in my name," he said, his vision clouded with repressed childhood memories. He had always been the new kid in school, perpetually the small one, the outsider, the odd one, the target of their taunts and abuse, with nowhere to escape.

Consistently misconstrued in his intentions, perpetually branded as malevolent, no matter his actions or noble intentions, people twisted his motives into something sinister. Over time, his anxiety grew, as did his fear of reprimand and the prospect of yet another social blunder. Consequently, he withdrew further and further into himself.

Ironically, he mused, the creature most renowned for being misunderstood was a cat. He plummeted back into the abyss of his youth, embracing a coal-black demon in lieu of a once-beloved teddy bear. Those eyes that beheld him, they were veritable portals to the fiery maw of Hell, casting an infernal spell upon his very soul. What dark specter from his youth had he nurtured so fervently that it could swell to such monstrous proportions? What maternal aspect of his being could harbor such an icy rage that it might bring Hell itself to a frigid standstill? What infernal General had he unwittingly cultivated within the depths of his own being over all these years? For an ephemeral moment, the obsidian hue of its skin seemed to pulsate with a crimson tinge, akin to blood rendered dark beneath the moon's pallid glow. Its eyes bore down upon him with a lucidity that left no doubt in his mind.

Al-Jeneral Al-Ahmar. The Red General. A progeny of the Great Red Dragon, birthed from the fleeting splendor of a solitary moment.

It was but a fleeting glimpse, an elusive moment that eluded conscious apprehension. Yet, he could have sworn he beheld it—how it loomed above him, its pallid skin aglow in the moon's tender embrace, bedecked in golden embellishments adorned with azure gemstones that sparkled like stars. Atop its brow, a regal crown of alabaster feathers sparkled like celestial diamonds. Was it a demon or an angel? That question lingered in the recesses of his fading thoughts. Will could sense his strength waning, his fading vision catching glimpses of the heavens ablaze, with fire descending from the skies. In his weakened state, Miu tenderly guided his faltering body to the obsidian ground, curling protectively over him to shield him from harm, ensuring he wasn't crushed. As his eyes began to dim, he heard it—a sound akin to a cosmic vibration, a soothing purr that sent ripples through the darkness. It was like a droplet of water hitting a still surface, and a comforting blackness washed over him. He struggled to find words to capture the essence of the sound, except that it possessed a mending, healing quality—an exquisite balm for all that was amiss. It was a sound that permeated every fiber of his being, so potent that it seemed capable of distorting reality with its ripples as if it could outscream even the stars. Yet, it was not a scream; it was a gentle, tender sound, brimming with love, understanding, and solace. A sound with the power to pierce through any obstacle, even the darkness that lacked light. A sound capable of making the heavens tremble and hushing hell to stillness.

The purr of a merciful cat.

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jadegretz · 2 months

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Midnight Mourning: Lady Death's Resplendent Rhapsody by Jade Gretz

Lady Death, cloaked in obsidian silk and wielding the chilling caress of Deathbringer, stood at the apex of the Howling Spire, a jagged mountain peak that sliced through the storm-churned skies of her domain. The wind, laced with the icy breath of oblivion, whipped around her ebony tresses, and her crimson eyes scanned the desolate landscape below. But her gaze wasn't drawn to the skeletal trees groaning in the gale or the ghostly wisps swirling between them. She sought a different kind of darkness, a darkness woven into sound, a darkness that slithered into the soul through the ear.

Whispers had reached her of a cursed melody, a composition penned by a mad bard who had bartered his sanity for a glimpse of the infernal. This "Symphony of Desolation," as it was ominously called, was said to bind the souls of those who heard it, trapping them in an infinite loop of despair, fuel for the bard's twisted immortality. It was a challenge – a macabre symphony vying for dominion over the souls within Death's own realm.

Intrigued, Lady Death descended, her every step echoing with the power of the afterlife. She followed the whispers, their tendrils leading her to a crumbling fortress, its stones stained with the ichor of untold suffering. Inside, amidst dust-laden portraits of forgotten horrors, she found him – the bard, gaunt and hollow-eyed, his fingers hovering over a shattered lute.

He played, the notes bleeding from the broken instrument like tortured screams. It was a melody that defied description, a discordant tapestry of agony and madness. Each note resonated with a primal fear, clawing at Death's very essence.

She should have slain him there, banished the cursed music to the oblivion it belonged to. But something held her back – a morbid fascination, a curiosity akin to smelling a decaying rose. As the music swelled, visions assailed her - souls trapped in an endless void, their screams echoing endlessly. It was a glimpse into her own domain, but twisted, corrupted by the bard's malevolent intent.

The bard, sensing her presence, cackled, his voice a dry …(see the rest of the story at deviantart.com/jadegretzAI). For more supergirl, chun li, batgirl, tifa, lara croft, wonder woman, rogue and much more, please visit my page at www.deviantart.com/jadegretzai - Thanks for your support :)

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infamous-light · 10 months

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Sacrifice Part II

Lucifer Morningstar x Angel! Gender Neutral Reader

AO3: Sacrifice

Word Count: 1.8K

Summary: There is nothing nobler than offering oneself to the Ruler of Hell to ensure humanity's survival.

Warnings: non-con touching

Hell.

A place where one is separated from God.

Where sinners are subjected to eternal suffering and torment.

Where hope comes to die.

It is an infernal creation that the light of heaven will never reach.

The very air reverberated with a dissonant symphony of despair. Anguished cries and guttural groans of the damned rang out throughout the fiery landscape in a cacophony of never-ending misery. Sharp, high-pitched wails morphed into an amalgamation of sorrow and regret as each discarded soul begged for another chance at forgiveness from God. The discordant chorus created a haunting reminder of their past sins and failings.

Amidst the unbearable heat that emanated from the deep, jagged pits scattered across the sea of fire, their pained screams sent a terrible chill down your spine.

This was a realm you never thought you would ever have to step a single foot into. The oppressive heat bore down on your shoulders with such heaviness and the air you breathed was near suffocating, tainted with the acrid smell of sulfur and smoke that permeated everywhere. It added to the blotched gray clouds which sprawled the skies of hell.

It was a dreadful sight to behold.

The decision to offer yourself in exchange for Dream’s helm was one you didn’t make lightly though. The ramifications were too high to overlook, necessitating a delicate balance in all things in the universe. Ever since you were assigned to Dream by one of the archangels in the Silver City, you made a solemn vow to aid the Dream Lord in reclaiming his missing symbols of office.

The bond between you two deepened and evolved into something far more profound over time. What began as mere companionship blossomed into an unbreakable friendship, rooted in mutual trust, shared experiences, and a level of understanding of each other.

That was a fact that Lucifer discerned in an instant.

Her perceptive nature was akin to that of a predator sensing its vulnerable prey. She homed in on the moment when you first crossed the threshold into the opulent throne room. Her eyes traversed your form, lingering on your wings, and a small smirk tugged on her lips. There was a tempestuous glimmer that shone in her cerulean eyes. The weight of her scrutiny was almost palpable, leaving you feeling exposed.

“I want your angel.”

Those words dripped off Lucifer’s tongue like honey, searing themselves into your mind. The balustrade underneath your fingers bore the brunt of your tightening grip, the elegant wood groaned in protest from the force of your clenched fists. The skin across your knuckles went taut, mirroring the turmoil within, as the intensity of the moment threatened to engulf you entirely.

The myriad of voices from behind you drew you back to the present. Slowly, you turned around. Before you stood Lucifer, draped in a deep red robe that accented her black, leathery wings, exuding an aura of charismatic charm and authority. Beside her stood Mazikeen, her consort, a figure shrouded in an air of mystery and poise.

Completing this unusual assembly was Azazel, whose form was an eerie fusion of menacing eyes and sharp-toothed mouths, presenting an otherworldly spectacle that defied the bounds of conventional understanding.

The crease between your brow furrowed deeper as you listened to each word exchanged between Lucifer and Azazel. The armies of hell, once confined to their infernal domain, now sought to expand their malevolent reach unto the Dreaming, even the Silver City.

Horror snaked inside your chest at the implication. It ignited a surge of anxiety within you.

The thought of either realm falling under the influence of Hell struck a chord of dread within you, for it would surely herald the destruction of reality itself.

After the conversation reached its conclusion, Azazel bid his farewell, his disembodied figure disappearing within himself. The absence of his presence left behind an aura of unspoken emotions and lingering thoughts.

Lucifer strode over to the fire pit, her steps carrying an air of determination. The crackling flames cast dancing shadows upon her face. There was something hauntingly beautiful about the way the fire's light played upon her features as if the fire itself paid homage to the Lord of Hell.

“He’s not to be trusted.” Mazikeen stated. The weight of her warning hung in the air like an unyielding truth that could not be ignored.

“Obviously. Though, he is not wrong.” Lucifer replied.

“Then, if I may ask, your majesty, what are you going to do?

“Something I have never done before.” A mischievous glint danced in her eyes, betraying the devilish delight that swirled within her as she spoke those words. “Something that will make God absolutely livid,” her smirk widened into a devious grin as her gaze strayed up to stare right at you. “and bring Morpheus to his knees.”

Lucifer stepped away from the fire pit and glided across the room, closing the distance between you two.

“Is something bothering you?”

The question hung in the air like a delicate web. As she approached, her eyes never left yours. The subtle sway of her hips and the playfulness in her movements seemed to draw you in, leaving you mesmerized by her enigmatic charm.

The room seemed to tremble with tension as your wings unfurled in a display of irritation, their feathers rustling like a symphony of fury. Her eyes seemed to brighten at that. Your jaw clenched together with resolute determination.

“You will fail.”

“Will I?” Lucifer gave you a smug smirk, the playful curve of her lips betraying a confidence that bordered on audacity. Her response was both a challenge and an invitation, daring you to question the certainty of your own beliefs and convictions.

“There is no way for you to escape from Hell. You’re bound here.”

Narrowing her eyes, she tilted her head ever so slightly.

“Allow me to ask something of you,” she began, her voice carrying a mix of serenity and righteous indignation that lent weight to her question. The pause that followed seemed to stretch as if she was allowing the gravity of her inquiry to sink in. “Is it fair to be banished for all eternity for simply wishing to exercise my own agency?”

In this moment, you realized that Lucifer was not just asking for answers but inviting you to explore the depths of your own beliefs and principles.

“Of course not, but you and I both know that this was more than just having your own free will. You wanted to exalt His throne and to be honored above all others.”

Each word was uttered with unwavering conviction, an acknowledgment of Lucifer's true ambitions. You remained resolute, refusing to be swayed by her beguiling words.

She scoffed. “You believe you understand my own ambitions. Such a bold little angel.” Her voice carried a perilous edge. Her leathery wings twitched in irritation, a telltale sign of her frustration and restlessness. The sound of their movement was like a soft rustle, a subtle reminder of the power she possessed beneath the surface.

You remained quiet as the tension between the two of you grew thicker.

“Why the sudden silence? Please, do continue. I’m curious to know your thoughts.” Lucifer mocked, a twisted smile forming on her lips.

Your voice held a note of finality as you stated plainly, “I think I've said enough.”

Lucifer's imposing figure towered over you, casting a shadow that seemed to engulf the very air around you.

“Still so defiant. You will learn your place sooner than later.” She declared in a calm tone. It was a warning tinged with a hint of a sinister promise.

She turned away from you and departed the throne room alongside Mazikeen, who cast one final withering glare your way before following her Lord out.

***

Every fiber of your being was soaked in weariness as you lay prostrate on the cool, silken bedsheets, enveloped in a profound stillness. The passage of time was an elusive notion in this realm, making it impossible to discern how long you had been here – lost in the abyss of Hell's dark embrace.

Amidst the perplexing haze of timeless existence, the peace and quiet didn't last long as a lean form pressed down on your back.

“You intrigue me, little angel,” Lucifer's voice whispered close to your ear, sending a shiver throughout your body. “Such beauty and power, and yet you confine yourself to your divine duties.”

Her fingers traced a delicate pattern along the outer edge of your wings, and her proximity sent a tingle of discomfort through your exhausted form. Those words were like a tantalizing melody, coaxing you to consider the forbidden possibilities she offered. But the resolve that had guided you thus far held strong. You knew the allure of her touch was a guise, a way to manipulate your emotions and tempt you into her web of deception.

“I will not forsake my purpose.” You breathed, your voice betraying the struggle within. “Your temptations hold no sway over me.”

Lucifer chuckled, a low, calming sound. “Such conviction.” she cooed, her voice a hypnotic song that reverberated in the stillness of the bedroom.

As Lucifer's fingers trailed along the pristine white feathers of your wings, she reveled in the slight twitch they made in response to her touch. Each delicate brush of her fingertips sent a tingling sensation from the crown of your head, all the way down to your toes, and a part of you yearned to surrender to the temptation she offered.

“You truly are a marvel,” she mused, her voice carrying a hint of admiration. “Your wings... so pure, so untouched by darkness.” Then, her voice took on a more sinister tone, twisted with mischief. “But that doesn't mean you are exempt from temptation. Even the purest of beings can be led astray by desire and curiosity.”

A sharp gasp tore from your throat as she took your earlobe between her teeth, giving it a light nip before she kissed along your jaw. Her touch was electrifying. The sensation was both unexpected and enticing, stirring a whirlwind of conflicting emotions deep inside of you.

Yet, amidst the allure of her seductive touch, a part of you resisted, clinging to the celestial light that burned brightly within your essence. With a subtle, yet firm, movement, Lucifer pressed her lithe form against your back, pinning you to the bed as you instinctively shifted in place.

"You resist so valiantly," she remarked, her voice a velvety whisper that seemed to echo in the stillness of the bedroom. "But do not forget, the allure of darkness will always be there, beckoning you to explore the hidden depths within yourself."

Her words hung in the air, a subtle challenge that stirred the depths of your very being. Your breath quickened and you closed your eyes, silently hoping she would release her hold on you.

Much to your surprise, Lucifer withdrew, leaving you lying there in shock.

“I will return later, my sweet little angel.” She purred.

The faint echoes of her gentle touch and whispered words continued to swirl around in your mind long after she left.

#lucifer morningstar x reader #lucifer morningstar #the sandman lucifer morningstar x reader #the sandman lucifer #the sandman #the sandman lucifer x reader

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lvoryingrid · 4 months

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Healing Flames Chapter 11

Dabi x fem!Reader

Synopsis: Morning brings tears, the residue of haunting nightmares. Despite the warm sun, an indistinct fear lingers. As (Y/n) walks to the clinic, police sirens disrupt the tranquility. On the highway, Dabi's fiery spectacle clashes with heroes. The chaos unfolds, revealing the complexities of quirks and motives.

As (Y/n) stood alone atop Sekoto Peak, a symphony of city lights shimmered below, casting a kaleidoscope of colors. The nocturnal breeze carried whispers of pine, a bittersweet reminder of the encounter that unfolded in the forest's embrace.

A hesitant step marked her departure, and she couldn't help but look back, her gaze lingering on the silhouette of the hilltop against the city skyline. Conflicting emotions churned within, a tempest of uncertainty.

Descending the trail, each step was a descent into the city's embrace, away from the isolated serenity of Sekoto Peak. The moon cast long shadows, painting the path with an ethereal glow, a silent witness to the internal conflict plaguing (Y/n).

As she reached the base, a final glance back encapsulated the silent exchange with the forest-clad summit. The city lights sparkled like diamonds, each one a reflection of a life continuing its journey.

The wind whispered its goodbyes, carrying with it the untold stories of the forest and the enigmatic figure who had crossed paths with (Y/n). Perhaps, in Dabi's stoic departure, there lay a silent expression of gratitude, an unconventional way of saying thanks.

The sun painted the blue sky once more, with his golden warmth, (Y/n) stirred from the depths of sleep. Yet, her awakening was accompanied by the haunting echoes of nightmares that clung to the recesses of her mind like shadows refusing to dissipate.

Tears welled in her eyes as she sat up, the residue of the dream still lingering in the corners of her consciousness. The details remained elusive, slipping away like sand through her fingers, leaving only the visceral emotions that gripped her heart with an unrelenting force.

With a heavy sigh, she rubbed her temples as if trying to erase the remnants of the night's torment. The room, bathed in the gentle glow of the morning sun, offered little solace to the lingering unease that accompanied her awakening.

Despite the warmth of the sun's embrace, a shiver ran down her spine, a response to the indistinct fear that the nightmares had left behind. As she rose from her bed, the weight of the unknown pressed upon her, a silent reminder that some dreams, even when forgotten, could cast a long, unsettling shadow on the waking world.

As (Y/n) strolled along the sunlit path toward the clinic, the golden rays danced playfully on her (h/c) hair, creating a radiant halo around her. The tranquility of the morning enveloped her, and the gentle hum of the city seemed to harmonize with the rhythm of her footsteps.

However, the serenity shattered abruptly as the wailing cries of police sirens pierced the air. A discordant symphony of urgency echoed through the streets, prompting some people to scatter in a frenzy and others to follow and see what happened. Confusion etched itself across (Y/n)'s face as she turned, her eyes widening in apprehension.

As (Y/n)'s gaze drifted toward the nearby highway, her eyes widened with terror at the unfolding spectacle. A police car, engulfed in vibrant blue flames, careened dangerously, and amidst the chaos, the unmistakable silhouette of Dabi emerged from the van in front of it. His posture exuded a sinister confidence, the flames dancing obediently to his command.

Just as panic threatened to take hold, the sand hero, Snatch, leaped into action. Streams of golden sand shot forth from his hands, intercepting the fiery onslaught with a skillful grace. The clash of blue flames against the resolute sands created a mesmerizing yet ominous display.

As the van slowed, a figure perched atop it leaped with malevolent intent. A confrontation unfolded in the midst of the chaotic highway. Snatch, his sand still swirling in defense, faced off against the assailant, a man with a menacing demeanor. The air crackled with tension as their powers clashed—a dance of sand and aggression.

Unexpectedly, a massive boulder materialized from beneath a police car, launching it into a wild flip. The sudden emergence of this earth-shaping force added a layer of unpredictability to the skirmish. The highway became a battleground, with elements of fire and sand converging in a tumultuous clash of quirks and wills.

As the police car somersaulted through the air, Dabi approached the sand hero with a dangerous swagger. The hero, urgency etched across his face, hastened to rescue the trapped officer. In the midst of this, Dabi's menacing voice cut through the chaos, tauntingly proclaiming, "That's right. Heroes always prioritize lives." The eerie glow of wild blue flames flickered ominously in his hands.

Undeterred, the hero gently placed the officer on the pavement, his response carrying a resolute conviction. "Recently, burnt corpses have been turning up in various places." Dabi, with a sardonic smile, retorted, "Oh, are people talking about me? That makes me happy."

Fueling the growing tension, Snatch, visibly angered by the villain's callous words, pivoted to face Dabi. "Have you ever thought about the feelings of those left behind?!" he demanded, launching a fierce sand attack. The grains danced in the air, a testament to the hero's determination.

In response, Dabi unleashed his own formidable power. The air crackled with intensity as blue flames enveloped his attack, meeting the oncoming sand in a clash of elemental forces. Amidst the fiery spectacle, the hero vanished, leaving a trail of displaced sand.

As chaos unfolded on the highway, (Y/n) found herself drawn to another mysterious figure in the midst of the turmoil. A man, masked and hat-clad, observed the spectacle with an odd fascination. His words, laden with a peculiar interest, cut through the tension. "That's hot... Sand doesn't burn, does it?"

Meanwhile, Dabi, seemingly nonchalant, dusted sand off his clothes as he analyzed the situation. "From what it looked like, he could only make the top half of his body sand, so he'll probably die."

Frozen by the unfolding events, (Y/n) stood rooted to the spot, her gaze fixated on the enigmatic duo. As the two men approached a police van, retrieving a captive, she felt the weight of Dabi's turquoise gaze on her. Panic seized her thoughts, 'He saw me!' reverberating in her mind as their eyes locked in a tense moment.

Abruptly, the sound of a horn pierced the air, and a distant voice yelled, "Pursuers are coming! Hurry up and get in!" With an unhurried demeanor, Dabi stretched his limbs, strolling towards the van. In the fleeting seconds before he vanished from her sight, he stole one last glance at her, leaving (Y/n) with a lingering sense of both curiosity and trepidation.

In a frantic rush, (Y/n) sprinted to the clinic, her footsteps echoing the urgency that gripped her. Once inside, she locked the door, seeking refuge from the chaos that unfolded on the streets. The clinic, now stood silent and desolate. Aware that no one would dare venture there due to the day's calamitous events, she knew she had to bide her time until the police arrived.

As she waited in the dimly lit clinic, her phone incessantly beeped with notifications, delivering grim news articles that painted a macabre picture of the recent developments. Headlines screamed about the League of Villains' ruthless attack, claiming the life of Snatch, a valiant sand hero. The reports intensified, revealing a more sinister turn of events – the man they sought to apprehend had allegedly kidnapped a young girl.

Trapped in the eerie silence of the clinic, (Y/n) was inundated with a sense of dread. The news articles, a digital tapestry of unfolding tragedy, served as a haunting backdrop to her solitude. Each notification, a grim reminder of the world unraveling beyond the clinic's secure walls, fueled her growing unease. As she anxiously awaited the arrival of the police, the weight of uncertainty and fear settled in, casting a shadow over her sanctuary.

Minutes stretched into agonizing hours as (Y/n) held her ground within the clinic's confines. The persistent ticking of the clock echoed the tension in the air, each passing second intensifying her anticipation. A sudden knock jolted her from her thoughts, and she raced to the door, hopeful for the arrival of law enforcement or a hero.

To her surprise and trepidation, the door swung open, revealing the tall and enigmatic figure of Dabi. He pushed himself inside with an air of urgency, swiftly closing the door behind him. As he turned to face her, (Y/n) couldn't contain the barrage of questions that flooded her mind.

"What happened out there? Why did you... kill that person?" she implored, her voice a mixture of confusion and concern. Dabi's turquoise gaze met hers, and he leaned dangerously close, a cryptic intensity emanating from him.

"Follow me," he commanded, his voice low and insistent, as he grabbed her hand. The gravity of his words hung in the air, leaving (Y/n) with no choice but to navigate the uncertain path he beckoned her towards.

Masterlist

#dabi #mha dabi #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #dabi x fem!reader #touya todoroki #touya todoroki x reader #bnha dabi #bnha todoroki #bnha touya #mha todoroki #mha #mha x reader #bnha #boku no hero acedamia #bnha x reader #bhna #healing flames

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late-to-the-magnus-archives · 8 months

Text

Cloud City, Artwork (Spoiler Heavy) - a Malevolent AU

The absolutely stunning art I was given for this fic, including 3D models. WOW.

The illustration is by @luneatic-art. The models are by @iconiccookie.

Thanks again to Scrimshaw (discord) for beta-reading!

AO3 || Masterpost

ALL SPOILER HEAVY, SO IT"S UNDER THE CUT.

By @luneatic-art

[ID illustration: A drawing of Arthur and the King in Yellow.

The King is coming out of a golden mirror that sits in a corner of a dusty, bare room.

Black tentacles are sprouting from the mirror and slithering towards Arthur, who is sitting on the ground and recoiling.

He has his hand up in front of his face as if to brace himself, and the King in Yellow’s giant form looms over him. A tall window illuminates the room in a harsh green glow.

At Arthur’s feet rests a bloodied dagger.

/End ID]

Models were built by @iconiccookie.

[ID Room 1: Three photographs of a dimly-lit room with brick walls, wooden floor and a large window at the end of the room. The glass of the window is white and not see-through. It is the only light source.

On the right wall is a long, dark wooden table. On top of the table are six objects. Two rib bones in the front, a feather behind them, followed by a white crystal and a knife. On the far end is a green frog.

On the left is a rectangular golden mirror, standing in the corner.

The frame of the mirror depicts four tendrils, two on the right and two on the left side, that curl into spirals in the four corners and each thin out to the middle where they meet. In the middle of the frame's top side is a star with two thin tendrils on each side of it. On the bottom of the frame is another wavy tendril.

The three photographs were taken from different angles. One from a higher perspective, one from the centre and one of them being closer to mirror and table. /End ID]

[ID Room 2.1: Two photographs of a dimly-lit room with brick walls, wooden floor and a large window at the end of the room. The glass of the window is white and not see-through. It is the only light source.

On the left is a rectangular golden mirror, standing in the corner.

Instead of a reflecting surface, the mirror is a gateway to another dimension with a dark background and yellow light emitting from within.

The King in Yellow is reaching out of the mirror with two black tentacles that have golden details and five extensions of his cloak.

From beneath the cloak strands and out of the mirror five bits of golden wire emerge, forming spirals on their ends.

The second photograph is set in the same room, but it's a closeup of the King in Yellow from an perspective that could be Arthur's while being lifted up.

The walls behind the King in Yellow are black and have gold veins on it. Everything is illuminated by yellow light. One of the bigger tentacle is reaching toward the viewer in the bottom half of the photograph.

/End ID]

[ID Room 2.2: Three photographs of a dimly lit room with brick walls, wooden floor and a large window at the end of the room.

The glass of the window is white and not see-through, it is the only light source.

On the right is a long, dark wooden table with bloodstains on its left side.

On the left is a rectangular golden mirror, standing in the corner. The frame of the mirror depicts four tendrils, two on the right and two on the left side that curl into spirals in the four corners and each thin out to the middle where they meet.

In the middle of the frame's top side is a star with two thin tendrils on each side of it.

On the bottom of the frame is another wavy tendril. Instead of a reflecting surface the mirror is a gateway to another dimension with a dark background and yellow light emitting from within.

The King in Yellow is reaching out of the mirror with two black tentacles that have golden details and five extensions of his cloak.

From beneath the cloak strands and out of the mirror five bits of golden wire emerge, forming spirals on their ends.

In the center of the room is a construct made of glass shards with gold wire connecting them. It resembles a cocoon. The cocoon consists of four shards depicting different scenes.

A central shard depicts a room whith a bed and a blue carpet. Blood is on and around the bed.

Below the central shard is one that depicts the same room but without blood. To its left is a bigger shard in which a bar is visible. The shard to the right depicts a room from the perspective of someone who crouches behind a kitchen counter looking towards a person standing in the shadows next to the entrance to a room with a blue carpet.

Between these shards are smaller ones with black and golden patterns and some that are made of mirror glass. Blood drips from some of them. Beneath the glass cocoon is a pool of blood.

In one of the photographs the room is more illuminated by yellow light that shines through the window causing the glass cocoon to be in shadows with no detail visible.

The other photographs have light shining from behind the viewer, illuminating the glass to be better visible.

One of them shows yellow light coming from the window while the other one doesn't.

/End ID]

[ID Room 3: Three photographs of a dimly lit room with brick walls, wooden floor and a large window at the end of the room. The glass of the window is white and not see-through, it is the only light source.

On the right is a long, dark wooden table with bloodstains on its left side.

On the floor next to the table is a rectangular mirror that has fallen over. The back of the mirror is made out of wood and the frame is golden.

Shards of broken glass lie around the mirror.

The difference between the photographs is that two are from a higher point of view than the other. They also vary in brightness.

/End ID]

#malevolent #malevolent big bang 2023 #malevolent fanfic #arthur lester #hastur malevolent #malevolent au #cloud city fic #parker yang #asenath waite #trans asenath waite #trans woman

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star-wars-writing · 4 months

Text

The Twilight Prophecy - Shadows of Soluna: Echoes of a Forgotten Unity - Prologue

A/N: "Hello, Guys! I know I said I would wait until I got some response before continuing, but I kind of wanted to put this prologue out there to give the story more of a back story. Thank for those who've read the story and for joining me on this journey through the world of Soluna. This chapter continues to weave the original tale of Crown Prince Cody and Crown Prince Obi-Wan with inspirations from the Star Wars universe. As always, your support and feedback mean the world to me.

"Copyright Notice: The original elements of this story, including the Kingdom of Soluna, its lore, and original characters, are my own creation and are © Love_of_fanfiction here on A03 and Star-wars-writing on Tumblr. These elements may not be reproduced, copied, or used in any form without my express permission.

The Star Wars characters and universe elements included in this story remain the intellectual property of Lucasfilm Ltd. and/or Disney. This fanfiction is a non-commercial work created for entertainment purposes only and is not officially affiliated with the owners of the Star Wars franchise.

Please respect the rights of all creators and do not replicate or use any part of this story for commercial purposes. Let's continue to enjoy the world of fanfiction responsibly and respectfully. Thank you!"

Now let's start the story.

In an age now lost to the history of time, the illustrious Kingdom of Soluna stood as a paragon of unity and grandeur. Nestled in a world where the rhythms of day and night were harmoniously intertwined, Soluna was a realm where the natural cycle of the sun's rise and the moon's ascent were celebrated as the lifeblood of existence.

Soluna, sprawling across diverse landscapes, was a kingdom of breathtaking beauty. Its heart, the city of Lumina, was an architectural marvel. The buildings, crafted from stones that seemed to absorb the essence of the skies, shimmered in the daylight with hues of gold and amber and radiated a soft luminescence under the moon's gaze. The streets of Lumina, paved with cobblestones of moonstone and sunstone, sparkled, leading the way to bustling marketplaces and serene gardens alike.

The people of Soluna were a vibrant tapestry of cultures, each contributing to the kingdom's rich tapestry. In the day, farmers toiled under the benevolent sun, their fields a testament to the kingdom's fertility, while artists found inspiration in the warm hues of the afternoon. As night fell, astronomers and poets sought the wisdom of the stars, their works a celebration of the moon's mystique.

Soluna's rulers, the Solar Monarchs and the Lunar Regents, governed with a balance as seamless as the cycle of day and night. Their reign was marked by festivals that celebrated the duality of their domain – the Solstice of Sun, a jubilant carnival of light and warmth, and the Equinox of Moon, a reflective, ethereal gathering under the night sky.

The Royal Academy of Soluna, a revered institution, stood at the confluence of science, magic, and philosophy. Here, the brightest minds delved into the mysteries of the natural world, their discoveries a tribute to the enlightened spirit of Soluna.

Yet, beneath this facade of peace and prosperity, a shadow loomed. An envious sorcerer, coveting the kingdom's harmony and power, unleashed a malevolent curse. The curse fractured the very essence of Soluna, tearing apart the balance that had been its foundation. In an instant, the kingdom was split into two realms – one bathed in perpetual daylight, the Sun Court, and the other shrouded in eternal night, the Moon Court. The memory of their shared past, of the unity that once was, vanished, leaving behind a void filled with discord and longing.

The once-glorious Kingdom of Soluna faded into legend, its tale a haunting reminder of the fragility of harmony. As the Sun and Moon Courts evolved independently, the echoes of their common legacy dwindled, leaving only a whisper of the unity that once graced their lands.

This is the forgotten tale of Soluna, a kingdom where day and night once danced in unison, now a lost chapter in the history of time, waiting to be rediscovered and restored by those destined to reforge the broken bonds.

In the era when Soluna thrived, the royal family was revered not only for their governance but also for the unique traits that some of them possessed. At the heart of Soluna's lineage was a rare and revered characteristic – the blessing of dual-sex, an embodiment of the kingdom's cherished balance of sun and moon. Not every monarch was graced with this trait, but those who were, were celebrated as living symbols of Soluna's harmony.

King Orion, the last ruler of united Soluna, was one such individual. A leader of unparalleled wisdom and compassion, Orion's dual-sex nature was seen as a perfect harmony between masculine and feminine energies, a physical manifestation of the balance that he so tirelessly worked to maintain in his kingdom. With hair that shimmered like spun gold in the sunlight and eyes that held the depth of the night sky, he was a figure of awe and reverence.

Queen Althea, his consort, was a woman of profound intellect and grace. Her keen mind was matched by a heart full of empathy, making her a beloved figure among the people. Her long, raven hair was often adorned with silver and gold, symbolizing the unity of day and night that Soluna cherished.

Together, Orion and Althea had three children, each inheriting different aspects of their parents' qualities. Prince Solaris, the eldest, was a vibrant and charismatic leader, his features reminiscent of the sun's fiery glow. He was a skilled diplomat and warrior, his presence commanding yet warm.

Princess Lunara, the middle child, possessed a serene beauty and a deep connection to the mystical arts. Her intuition and wisdom beyond her years made her an invaluable advisor in the royal court. Her silver-blonde hair and moonlit eyes were a testament to her affinity with the night.

The youngest, Prince Eclipsion, was a harmonious blend of his siblings' traits. With a keen mind and a compassionate heart, he was the embodiment of balance. Eclipsion's unique nature, showing traits of dual-sex like his father, made him a symbol of Soluna's core values.

In the royal palace, a grand structure that mirrored the kingdom's splendor, the family's interactions were a microcosm of Soluna's ideals. Discussions at the dinner table were lively, with each member bringing their perspective to debates on governance, culture, and the future of their realm.

"I believe we must expand our trade routes to the Northern Territories," proposed Prince Solaris during one such discussion, his voice confident and persuasive.

Princess Lunara, always thoughtful, responded, "We must consider the impact on the local cultures. Our goal should be harmony, not dominance."

King Orion listened intently, his expression a mix of pride and contemplation. "Your points are valid," he said, his voice a soothing blend of authority and gentleness. "Soluna thrives not by imposing but by understanding and integrating. We must find a balance that honors our values and respects others."

Queen Althea, observing the exchange, added, "And let us not forget the importance of nurturing our own arts and sciences. Our strength lies in our ability to create and innovate."

Prince Eclipsion, quietly absorbing the discussion, finally spoke, his words reflecting his innate wisdom. "Perhaps we can find a way to blend these approaches – to expand with mindfulness and foster growth within."

The royal family's dynamics were a testament to their leadership – diverse in thoughts and opinions yet united in their love for Soluna and its people. Their discussions often extended beyond the palace walls, as they engaged with scholars, artists, and common folk alike, ensuring that every voice was heard and valued.

In the once harmonious Kingdom of Soluna, a sinister presence lurked in the shadows, biding its time. Darth Bane, a Sith sorcerer skilled in the dark arts, harbored a deep-seated disdain for the peace and balance Soluna represented. In his eyes, only in chaos and destruction could true power thrive. His heart, a void of darkness, sought to unravel the fabric of harmony that held Soluna together.

One fateful day, under a sky where the sun and moon hung in uneasy truce, Darth Bane made his move. With malevolent intent, he approached the grand gates of the royal palace. The guards, sensing an ominous aura, stood tense and alert, but they were no match for the sorcerer's dark powers.

In the royal hall, King Orion and Queen Althea, along with their children, were caught unaware. The family, a symbol of Soluna's unity, could not fathom the depth of the darkness that was about to befall them. Darth Bane, cloaked in shadows, stepped into the hall, his presence a chilling wave that washed over everyone present.

"Your reign of false harmony ends today," Darth Bane declared, his voice a sinister echo that filled the chamber. Before anyone could react, he unleashed his curse, a maelstrom of dark energy that enveloped the royal family and the palace.

King Orion and Queen Althea, caught in the eye of this dark storm, could only watch in horror as their world unraveled. The curse struck with merciless precision, tearing the very essence of Soluna apart. In an instant, Prince Solaris and Princess Lunara found their minds clouded, their memories of the unity and love within their family twisted into visions of division and rivalry.

Darth Bane's dark magic spun a deceitful narrative in the minds of the royal siblings, convincing them that the Sun and Moon Courts had always been at odds, that their destinies were to rule separately and in conflict. Prince Solaris, his thoughts now shrouded in the illusion of perpetual daylight, became the King of the Sun Court, forgetting the ties that bound him to his family. Princess Lunara, her mind veiled in the eternal night, ascended as the Queen of the Moon Court, her silver hair a trait revered in this new, divided reality.

The once majestic capital, Lumina, now stood as a ruin on the divide of day and night, its history and purpose lost to the curse's fog. The people of Soluna, now citizens of two separate realms, gazed upon the ruins with no recollection of their former unity.

King Orion and Queen Althea's fate remained shrouded in mystery, their end a tragic chapter in the history of Soluna. Prince Eclipsion, the youngest, disappeared amidst the chaos, his fate unknown, fueling whispers and legends among the people.

As Darth Bane retreated into the shadows, his curse complete, the Kingdom of Soluna faded into a realm of divided memories, its once glorious past now a forgotten dream. The Sun and Moon Courts, each cast in their respective lights, began a new chapter, unaware of the unity that once defined them, their future entwined with a prophecy yet to unfold.

In the wake of Darth Bane’s malevolent curse, the once-unified Kingdom of Soluna fractured into two isolated realms: the Sun Court, ruled by King Solaris, and the Moon Court, under Queen Lunara’s reign. The siblings, their memories altered, their hearts veiled in darkness, became strangers to one another, each leading their courts in isolation, disconnected from their shared past.

The Sun Court, bathed in perpetual daylight, became a land where the sun’s relentless gaze hardened the hearts of its people. King Solaris, once a prince known for his warmth and charisma, transformed into a ruler whose judgments were as scorching as the sun’s rays. The palace, once a beacon of balance, now stood as a fortress of light, its walls reflecting the unyielding nature of its inhabitants.

In the Moon Court, night reigned eternal, casting the realm in a serene yet somber glow. Queen Lunara, whose wisdom and intuition were once celebrated, became a figure of mystery, her rule shrouded in the silent contemplation of the moonlit skies. Her court, a reflection of the night itself, was a place of quiet strength and hidden depths.

As years passed, the void between the Sun and Moon Courts grew, fueled by forgotten kinship and a growing sense of otherness. The common heritage of Soluna, once the cornerstone of their civilization, became lost in the mists of time, replaced by a narrative of division and rivalry.

Skirmishes along the borders became frequent, as misunderstandings and fear bred conflict. The Sun Court’s warriors, equipped for battle under the blazing sun, clashed with the Moon Court’s sentinels, masters of the night’s shadows. Each encounter left a scar on the land, a reminder of the harmony that was lost.

In both courts, the people’s hearts ached for a peace they could not remember. Whispers of a time when sun and moon were one lingered in their songs and stories, like echoes of a forgotten dream. Yet, these tales were regarded as mere fables, the wishful thinking of those who yearned for an end to the strife.

King Solaris, sitting upon his throne, his features cast in sharp relief by the ever-present sunlight, often found his thoughts wandering to the Moon Court. A sense of longing, unexplainable and deep, tugged at his soul. “Why does the night seem so familiar, yet so distant?” he pondered, his mind clouded by the remnants of the curse.

In her palace, Queen Lunara gazed at the stars, her expression a tapestry of melancholy and longing. “There’s a sorrow in these stars, a tale of loss,” she mused, her heart echoing a grief she could not fully comprehend.

The prolonged period of conflict and mistrust between the Sun and Moon Courts wove a tapestry of sorrow and longing, a tragic consequence of Darth Bane’s curse. The once-great Kingdom of Soluna, now divided and forgetful of its past, stood as a land where day and night were no longer in harmony, but in silent contention, yearning for a unity they could no longer remember.

Years wore on, deepening the rift between the Sun and Moon Courts, as their forgotten unity became little more than a legend. The once harmonious Kingdom of Soluna was now a battleground for two opposing realms, each under the shadow of Darth Bane’s curse, oblivious to their shared heritage.

One fateful day, the Sun Court, led by King Solaris, marched upon the Moon Court’s borders. The sun blazed fiercely in the sky, casting a harsh light on the armored warriors, their swords and shields glinting ominously. King Solaris, astride his majestic steed, his armor reflecting the ruthless sun, wore an expression of grim determination. His once compassionate heart had turned steely, hardened by years under the unrelenting sun.

In response, the Moon Court’s defenders, shrouded in the protective cloak of night, emerged silently. Queen Lunara, a silhouette against the moonlit backdrop, stood atop the ramparts of her fortress. Her eyes, reflecting the cool luminescence of the moon, were pools of sorrow and resolve. Her warriors, adept in the art of shadow warfare, readied their bows, the silver arrows aimed at the approaching Sun Court army.

The battle that ensued was a tragic spectacle. The clash of swords and the twang of bows sang a discordant melody, a lament for the lost unity of Soluna. The ground, a witness to this strife, was marred with the scars of battle, the soil drinking the blood of sun and moon alike.

In the midst of the chaos, Solaris and Lunara found themselves face to face, their swords crossed. For a fleeting moment, their eyes met, and a spark of recognition flickered, quickly smothered by years of enmity and the sorcerer's curse. Words were unnecessary; their blades spoke for them, each strike a painful reminder of their division.

Around them, the battle raged on, the air filled with cries of anguish and the clash of metal. The once-peaceful land of Soluna was now a witness to the sorrow of its rulers, a canvas upon which the tragedy of forgotten kinship was painted in stark hues.

As dawn broke, marking the end of the conflict, both courts retreated, leaving the battlefield littered with the remnants of their clash. The cost of their division was etched in the faces of the surviving warriors, their eyes hollow with the weight of loss.

King Solaris, returning to his sunlit palace, felt a heaviness in his heart, a sorrow that the light could not dispel. He wandered the silent halls, haunted by the moonlit eyes of Lunara, a nagging sense of something lost lingering in his mind.

Similarly, Queen Lunara, amidst the quiet of her moon-drenched chambers, pondered the day’s events. The sun’s relentless blaze in Solaris’s eyes haunted her, a reminder of a connection she could not grasp, a puzzle whose pieces lay scattered in the shadows of her memory.

In their separate realms, Solaris and Lunara grieved for the unity they could not remember, the harmony that was once the foundation of their existence. The battles and strife, while momentarily ceasing, left a lingering question in the air – a silent longing for a peace that seemed as distant as the forgotten days of Soluna.

Years trickled by like grains of sand in the hourglass of time, and with them, the era of King Solaris and Queen Lunara faded into history, giving way to a new generation of rulers. In the Sun Court, King Yoren ascended the throne, a ruler whose very presence was like a soft dawn breaking the darkness. In the Moon Court, King Yoda took up the mantle, a sage whose wisdom was as deep and vast as the night sky.

King Yoren, unlike his predecessors, bore a heart not hardened by the perpetual daylight but warmed by it. His rule was marked by a gentle strength, a desire to see beyond the blinding light of day. He was a man of medium build, with hair that captured the hues of the morning sun and eyes that reflected a sky free of storms. His reign began with a vision of peace, a longing to bridge the chasm that had long separated the Sun and Moon Courts.

In the Moon Court, King Yoda's presence was as calming as the cool touch of moonlight. His wisdom, accrued over decades of study and reflection, brought a renewed sense of purpose to his people. With a stature small yet commanding, and eyes that twinkled with the light of distant stars, Yoda spoke with a voice that resonated with the ancient truths of the night.

In the privacy of his solar chambers, King Yoren often found himself gazing at the horizon, where day met night in a fleeting embrace. "The time for endless conflict has passed," he mused aloud, his voice echoing the resolve in his heart. "We must seek understanding, for in the light of the sun, all shadows are cast away."

Similarly, in the Moon Court, King Yoda pondered the future in his observatory, surrounded by star charts and celestial instruments. "In the cycle of the cosmos, balance is the eternal truth," he whispered to the night. "We must extend our hand to the Sun Court, for in the darkness, even the brightest star seeks companionship."

The desire for peace sparked a series of secret missives between the two rulers, each letter a tentative step towards understanding. Their correspondence, carried by trusted envoys under the veil of secrecy, wove a delicate thread of hope between the two courts.

As word of this budding alliance spread, it was met with mixed reactions. In the Sun Court, some praised Yoren's vision, while others, steeped in the old ways of rivalry, voiced their dissent. "To extend a hand to the Moon Court is to forget the battles fought under our sun," argued a sun courtier, his words a reflection of the lingering mistrust.

In the Moon Court, Yoda's councilors debated in hushed tones. "King Yoda's wisdom has always guided us," one advisor remarked, her voice laced with cautious optimism. "Perhaps it is time to step out of the shadows and embrace the light of peace."

Amidst these discussions, both Yoren and Yoda remained steadfast, their conviction unwavering. They knew the path to peace was fraught with obstacles, but the vision they shared – a vision of a world where the sun's warmth and the moon's grace coexisted – was a dream they dared to nurture.

In time, this dream led to the first historic meeting between the two kings, a clandestine summit under the stars, at the very ruins of the once-great capital of Lumina. There, amidst the whispers of a past long forgotten, King Yoren and King Yoda stood face to face, the first of their kind to seek a harmony that transcended the division of day and night.

Their meeting, though shrouded in secrecy, was the first flicker of a flame that promised to light the way for both courts – a flame that held the potential to dispel the shadows of war and illuminate a path to a united future.

Under the cloak of night, where the stars held court in the sky, the ruins of Lumina bore witness to a historic meeting – the first of its kind in centuries. King Yoren of the Sun Court and King Yoda of the Moon Court, each a ruler in their own right, stepped into the hallowed grounds of what once was the heart of the unified Soluna. The air was thick with anticipation, and the ruins, bathed in the soft luminescence of the moon and the residual warmth of the sun, seemed to awaken from their long slumber.

King Yoren, dressed in robes that captured the warm hues of the sunrise, approached with a respectful nod. His expression, usually serene, was etched with the gravity of the moment. "King Yoda," he began, his voice steady yet imbued with emotion, "I stand before you not as a ruler of the day, but as a seeker of peace. Our realms have been divided for too long."

King Yoda, his stature small but presence immense, met Yoren's gaze. His eyes, mirroring the depth of the night sky, reflected a wisdom born of years spent under the moon's watch. "Indeed, King Yoren. In the cycle of night and day, there lies a harmony we have forgotten. It is time to remember and rebuild."

The ruins around them, remnants of a time when day and night were one, stood as silent witnesses to their dialogue. Yoren and Yoda walked amidst the fallen columns and broken archways, each step a symbol of their journey towards reconciliation.

"The people of the Sun Court are strong and passionate, but in our unending day, we have lost sight of the stars," Yoren confessed, his gaze lingering on a fragment of a sunstone. "We need the wisdom and perspective that the night brings."

Yoda nodded, his hands clasped behind his back. "And the Moon Court, though introspective and resilient, yearns for the warmth that only the sun can provide. Our strength lies in unity, not isolation."

Their conversation meandered through the possibilities of a joint future, a tapestry of ideas and hopes. They spoke of joint festivals to celebrate both the sun and the moon, of exchanges of scholars and artists, and of trade routes that would benefit both realms.

As dawn approached, painting the sky with the first light of day, Yoren and Yoda stood side by side, watching the horizon. The symbolic merging of night and day in that moment was not lost on them.

"We stand at the brink of a new era," Yoren said, his voice imbued with a newfound resolve. "A truce between our courts is but the first step towards healing the rift that has long separated us."

"Let this dawn mark the beginning of our journey together," Yoda added, his voice soft yet firm. "A journey towards a peace that honors both the sun and the moon."

The establishment of the truce, there amidst the ruins of Lumina, was a promise – a promise of a future where the Sun and Moon Courts could coexist in harmony. As Yoren and Yoda departed, each returning to their respective realms, the first rays of the sun mingled with the retreating night, a symbolic reminder of the unity they sought to achieve.

Their meeting, though kept secret from many, laid the foundations for a slowly blossoming relationship between the Sun and Moon Courts. It was a testament to their wisdom and the realization that in unity, not division, lay the true strength and prosperity of their realms.

In the aftermath of the historic meeting at the ruins of Lumina, King Yoren and King Yoda began the delicate task of nurturing the fragile truce into a lasting bond between the Sun and Moon Courts. This journey, paved with cautious optimism, was a testament to their shared vision of a harmonious future.

King Yoren returned to his sunlit palace, where the walls echoed with the memories of endless days. In the grand council chamber, bathed in golden light, he addressed his advisors. "We stand on the cusp of a new dawn," Yoren stated, his voice resonating with a quiet yet unmistakable determination. "The Moon Court is not our enemy; they are our counterparts, integral to restoring the balance that Soluna once knew."

His council, a collection of seasoned diplomats and warriors, exchanged glances. Some bore expressions of skepticism, their minds shadowed by generations of conflict, while others looked intrigued, their curiosity piqued by the possibility of change.

General Arcturus, a veteran of many sunlit battles, voiced his concern. "Your Majesty, the Moon Court has always been shrouded in mystery. Can we truly trust them?" His tone, though respectful, carried the weight of years of distrust.

Yoren’s response was thoughtful, reflecting the depth of his conviction. "Trust is like the dawn. It begins with a mere sliver of light, growing steadily until it illuminates all around us. We must be the first to extend this light."

Meanwhile, in the Moon Court, King Yoda convened a similar gathering under the soft, ethereal glow of moonstones. The atmosphere was one of contemplative silence, a stark contrast to the vibrant energy of the Sun Court.

"Change, like the phases of the moon, is inevitable," Yoda spoke, his voice a calm, guiding force in the dimly lit chamber. "Our path forward lies in harmony with the Sun Court. This is the way to true wisdom."

A murmur ran through the assembly, a mix of surprise and contemplation. Lady Celestine, an advisor known for her insight, shared her thoughts. "The night has always been our ally, but it has also kept us in solitude. Perhaps it is time we step into the light of new possibilities."

As months turned to years, small yet significant steps were taken. Joint festivals were initiated, celebrated on the borders of the two realms. These festivals, a blend of sun and moon traditions, became a symbol of their growing unity. People from both courts mingled, sharing stories and customs, and discovering the beauty in their differences.

Trade routes were established, allowing the exchange of goods and knowledge. Sun Court’s merchants brought the warmth of the sun in their wares, while Moon Court’s traders offered the cool wisdom of the night.

Cultural exchanges flourished, with artists, scholars, and musicians crossing the borders to share and learn. In the Sun Court, the melodies of the night played by Moon Court musicians captivated the hearts of many, while in the Moon Court, the vibrant colors of Sun Court's art opened new vistas of expression.

King Yoren and King Yoda continued their correspondence, each letter a reinforcement of their commitment to peace. Through these letters, they shared not only the progress of their endeavors but also the challenges they faced, forging a bond of mutual respect and understanding.

The gradual process of building trust and cooperation laid the foundation for future generations. It was a testament to the belief that unity was not only beneficial but essential for the prosperity and well-being of both realms. In this journey, the Sun and Moon Courts slowly rediscovered the harmony that was once the essence of Soluna, illuminating a path towards a future where day and night could coexist in peace.

In the unfolding tapestry of the Sun and Moon Courts' history, the lineage of rulers bore the responsibility of upholding and nurturing the delicate bond established by King Yoren and King Yoda. Following Yoda's wise reign, the Moon Court was guided by King Dooku, a ruler of sharp intellect and a commanding presence. Dooku, though a man of more stern disposition than his predecessor, recognized the value of the alliance with the Sun Court. He continued the tradition of cultural exchanges, though with a more strategic approach, ensuring the Moon Court's mystical and intellectual heritage was preserved and respected.

In the Sun Court, after the era of King Yoren, King Jaster ascended the throne. He was a leader of valor and strength, with a charisma that shone as brightly as the sun itself. Jaster's rule was marked by a period of expansion and prosperity. He took to heart the lessons of cooperation with the Moon Court, fostering trade relations and joint military exercises that strengthened the bonds of trust and mutual reliance. Jaster, with his vibrant energy, brought a new dynamism to the Sun Court's interactions with their nocturnal neighbors.

The subsequent transition of power in the Moon Court to King Qui-Gon was a return to the more introspective and philosophical approach of King Yoda. Qui-Gon, a thoughtful and wise ruler, married the serene and insightful Lady Tahl. Together, they embodied the tranquility and depth of the Moon Court. Qui-Gon's reign saw a resurgence in the arts and sciences, with a focus on understanding the natural world and the cosmos. His gentle guidance further solidified the Moon Court's reputation as a realm of wisdom and introspection.

Meanwhile, in the Sun Court, the transition from King Jaster to his son, King Jango, marked the continuation of a vibrant and powerful dynasty. Jango, much like his father, was a ruler of great courage and determination. His marriage to Queen Seraphina brought a blend of warmth and intelligence to the Sun Court. Under Jango's rule, the Sun Court continued to flourish, its people basking in the prosperity brought about by ongoing peace and cooperation with the Moon Court.

The births of Crown Princes Cody and Obi-Wan during the reigns of King Jango and King Qui-Gon, respectively, were celebrated with great joy in both courts. These princes, born into a legacy of burgeoning unity and cooperation, were seen as symbols of the enduring alliance between day and night.

In these years of gradual rapprochement, the birth of the Crown Princes in both courts marked a new hope. In the Sun Court, Crown Prince Cody was born under the auspicious first light of dawn. His first cries were met with the jubilation of a kingdom that saw in him the future of continued harmony. Cody grew under the relentless sun, his personality a reflection of its brilliance and clarity.

Similarly, in the Moon Court, the birth of Crown Prince Obi-Wan was celebrated under the soft glow of a full moon. His arrival was heralded as a sign of enduring peace, and his upbringing was imbued with the mystique and calm of the lunar realm. Obi-Wan matured into a thoughtful and introspective young man, his demeanor as soothing as the moonlight.

The parallel lives of these princes, born into a legacy of burgeoning unity, were destined to intertwine. Their upbringing, though separate, was underpinned by the same principles of understanding and cooperation that their forebears had championed.

As they came of age, the hopes of both courts rested on their shoulders – the expectation that they would carry forward the work started generations ago, and perhaps, bring about the fulfillment of a harmony that had once been the essence of Soluna.

A/N: Now I will wait before continuing this story, I did want to give you some backstory to the idea I have here. I would love to hear all of your thoughts, suggestions, ideas and comments you might have. I look forward to know what you think, and if you would like to read more about this story I've started. @swfandomevent @swfanfics @codywanbingo

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